


Malcolm Hamish McDeath

by springburn



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Court Cases, Depression, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Justice, Looking to the Future, Love, Part three of a trilogy, Partnership, Past Issues, angst/feels, past trauma, relationships, shitstorm au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:31:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 73,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8909209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: The story opens at the end of The Goolding Inquiry....and what happens in the immediate aftermath.





	1. The Long and Winding Road.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is taken from Peter Mannion's greeting to Jamie in 'The Rise of the Nutters' in TTOI. He says, "Dont I know you? Don't you work for someone famous? Malcolm Hamish McDeath?" 
> 
> This story deals with Malcolm and Sam and what happened next. It follows on more or less directly after the last story Shitehead Revisited, and Shitstorm, and forms the third and final part of the trilogy. 
> 
> I haven't written the actual Inquiry itself, but I will be talking about what happened there throughout this story, as it has a direct bearing on Malcolm and Sam's life together.  
> I have researched and analysed the Inquiry thoroughly and have drawn my own conclusions and opinions from it. They may not agree with others, but it's a story and it's mine to write. 
> 
> Malcolm is learning about himself throughout this tale, continuing on from Shitehead. He is the strong one, whilst Sam is struggling. 
> 
> The first chapter is really by way of an introduction. Greg Fraser's words are the exact words he uses in the final episode of series four on the steps of the police station with Malcolm standing beside him.  
> Those words told me all I needed to know about how Malcolm saw himself, and what happened to him, and set the scene for the whole thing. 
> 
> In the subsequent chapters I will take you back in time to between the end of Shitehead and what happens leading up to the Inquiry. 
> 
> Then we will catch up with the present day.  
> A lot of information will come out and I hope it won't be too boring as it's relevant to the storyline. 
> 
> I'll try to add notes as we go along.

AND SO IS LOVE. LYRICS BY KATE BUSH. (From the Red Shoes album) 

 

And you ah? You do ah?  
We let it in, we give it out.  
And in the end, what's it all about?  
It must be love.  
I give you my, I give you my  
You give me your, you give me your joy.  
We used to say "Ah Hell, we're young"  
But now we see that life is sad. And so is love.  
(Ooh baby live your life for love)  
(Ooh baby live your life for love)  
We used to say "Ah Hell, we're young"  
But now we see that life is sad. And so is love.  
(Ooh baby for the sake of love)  
(Ooh baby for the sake of love)  
And whatever happens, what really matters?  
It's all we've got, isn't that enough?  
(Life is sad and so is love).  
You let it slip, you let it slip.  
(Life is sad and so is love)  
I love you more, I love you more for it.  
(Life is sad and so is love)  
Oh yeah, oh you too.  
(Life is sad and so is love)  
All for love.  
(Life is sad and so is love)  
Just for the sake of love.  
(Life is sad and so is love)  
You set me free, I set you free.  
(Life is sad and so is love)

MALCOLM HAMISH McDEATH. 

CHAPTER ONE

THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD. 

_"I have a brief statement I will read on behalf of my client........_

_'I am innocent of all charges and vow to do everything in my power to clear my name._  
_I will fight this all the way, and I am confident no jury will be able to look me in the eye and say anything other than I am an innocent man._  
_But to avoid any distraction to my official duties and to begin preparations for my acquittal, I am standing down as Senior Communications Officer to my Party and with heavy heart am leaving top tier politics for good.'_

_That is all we have to say at this time. Thank you."_

 

Sam was not with Malcolm as he stood on the steps of the police station at Hackney. 

She watched the whole thing unfold on the television news. 

Knew it was coming. Attended the Inquiry everyday, to show her support. 

Listened as they all carefully manipulated the blame on to him. 

It had been a blow when it was announced that the Inquiry would be widened to encompass the whole cancer of 'leaking.'  
Sam realised that an awful lot of people stood to lose an awful lot. 

What she hadn't bargained for was that, ultimately, only Malcolm would be held responsible. 

As she listened to the line of questioning, from Goolding himself and from both Simon Weir and Matthew Hodge, what a relatively easy time the others had, and yet the way Baroness Sureka latched onto him, she knew at once that Malcolm was fucked anyway, and this was long before the big reveal. 

The photograph of the file in Malcolm's hands, showing Mr Tickel's NHS and phone number floored even her.  
Mainly because she, who saw oversaw every piece of paper that ever left her desk, knew for absolute certain that it was a stitch up. 

No doubt. 

She knew what each single sheet of those papers in his hands contained, and it was most definitely NOT what was on the top sheet clearly visible in the pap snap.  
So shocked was she, that she almost stood up and shouted out. 

Her anger at not being called as a witness, or allowed to stand, in spite of the fact that she and she alone was present throughout almost everything that had happened on a daily basis, was palpable.  
Eyes and ears. Privy to every conversation and a lot more besides. So often overlooked. 

In her own mind, another glaring omission was Dan Miller.  
Why was he not called to testify? 

Sam placed down her cup and turned the TV monitor off. 

Well, that was that. 

They'd be no coming back from this.

He was finished. 

They had conspired to finish him. She didn't know how, but she knew it was true. 

Just as she'd known the attempted burglary and his subsequent attack at their home, had been designed to, at the very least relieve him of his potentially damaging information, and at worst, frighten him sufficiently to force his silence. 

How would he cope? 

She didn't know it then, but it wasn't him she needed to worry about. 

Quietly she began to pack up her desk. 

It was clear there was really very little to go on as regards a prosecution. Sam reasoned that the CPS would surely not spend a fortune trying to pursue it.  
They would feel Malcolm's apt punishment was the destruction of his career and personal standing, and let it ride at that.  
So many people had committed perjury during the Inquiry, Sam knew that for a fact too, that to investigate it all would cost the Earth. It would make the Government look not only incompetent but also corrupt. 

She felt strangely relieved. 

Never would she return to the Norman Shaw buildings again. 

In the cab home a numbness seemed to settle upon her. 

She had dealt with so much already.

At this moment she didn't know it.....

......but this was to be the beginning of the greatest challenge of her entire life. 

oOo

It was a fortnight or more before the press that were camped on their doorstep finally went away.  
The headlines in the newspapers were the cruellest, most vile accusations and insults imaginable.

Sam was hounded every time she left the house to go to the supermarket or to Pilates. A microphone shoved in her face, questions fired at her. Flashes from cameras blinding her as she tried to walk through them all.  
One even asked her why she was still with this odious specimen of manhood, citing misplaced loyalty, and even suggesting that Malcolm paid her handsomely for her company. The implication being that she was basically his whore. 

She pushed her way through them, jostled by the press pack and jeered at by a knot of 'angry joe public' also gathered there, loitering with intent, forming what could only be described as a baying mob.  
The following day Malcolm found one of them hiding in the brick wash house in the courtyard at the bottom of his garden, he decided to call the police.  
They came.....in their own good time, and were less than cordial with him.  
Their attitude one of, 'you've got what you deserve mate'.  
But at least they did their duty and removed the offending trespasser. 

He was badgered constantly for interviews, so was Sam.... _.'how I stuck by my man'......'the only woman to love the person that everyone else hates'....._ that was their angle. 

"Bastards! They didn't want to speak to me at the Inquiry, even though I was probably the best witness they had! Now they want to know my innermost thoughts? Sod them!" She spat defiantly. 

Malcolm refused to hide himself away. 

Nor did he do his usual escapologist act. He wasn't going to run to the continent, or anywhere else, not this time.  
He was going to damn well carry on. 

He was innocent. 

Each time he left his house to head off to the swimming baths he was surrounded. They jumped in cars and followed him.  
One even papped him emerging from the changing room, he walked up to the offending photographer and gave his best bollocking face. 

"Who do you think I am? Fucking Princess Di? If that appears in any shit filled rag I'll know who to come and find. You'll have a High Court injunction slapped on you so fucking quick you'll never work in the media again.....now get the fuck out of my face you lairy cunt......"

Sam was also long-lensed in the cafe with Laura.  
The picture was printed in The Mirror. 

_"The Woman who remains loyal to Malcolm Tucker!"_

An article below painted her as some kind of golddigging floozy. Hints at their age differences, and the fact she was his former PA. Aspersions cast on the nature of their liaison, the 'boss fucking his much younger secretary' scenario. Little digs at the possible reasons for the attraction between them, a certain air of grubby smuttiness applied to their whole relationship. 

It was horrible. 

Both Jamie and Laura were approached and badgered for their stories. Offered vast sums to spill the dirt. So were Malcolm's neighbours. Each door was knocked upon, asking for any juicy snippets of information. 

They even contacted Sam's brother Paul in The States, and Mac and Nancy McDonald in Scotland.  
Paul told them politely to leave him alone, Malcolm's sister was not nearly so restrained!  
When Nancy spotted a photographer outside on her driveway she rushed out and threw a bucket of water over him.  
"Fuck off ye massive pile o' dog shite!" She yelled. 

Angela Heaney refused point blank to publish any of what she considered to be trash, without concrete evidence that it was in any way true, as far as she was concerned this was a circus, the very lowest form of journalism, she didn't believe any of it for one moment.  
She'd also closely reported on the Inquiry, and with her expert nose for scandal, she most definitely smelled a rat. 

Her editor threatened to sack her as chief reporter from The Mail. 

Immediately she counter-punched and referred her case to a tribunal.  
Meanwhile, she rapidly launched a vicious attack on the other assembled media. No direct threats, no names.....she was far to sensible and far too good a journalist for that, but she was a lone voice amongst all the hatred and vitriol.  
She was also well respected in press circles, rare, in that she had integrity. Many remembered her article on the child abuse case she'd written when Malcolm's story first emerged.  
It was an award winning piece. 

Malcolm was mortified at their treatment of her, but she convinced him that she could more than adequately take care of herself. The fact that she was so esteemed by her colleagues, made at least some consider that maybe there was more to this Inquiry story than met the eye. 

Then the death threats started. 

First through Social Media. Mainly Twitter and Facebook. Then in the form of posted letters. 

Malcolm and Sam's mobiles were hacked. Voicemails and texts were left. Saying what would happen to them both if they dared set foot outside their house. 

Sam then received a message telling her exactly what this particular individual would like to do to her......

That was the final straw. 

Malcolm demanded police protection. 

Passed the information over to the local constabulary, but not before taking careful copies of everything.  
His faith in the support of the Law was somewhat dented, he didn't trust them not to conveniently lose the evidence. 

All that sustained Malcolm during this time, was the thought that he would get his day in court.  
He would stand proud and dignified in front of a jury and they would acquit him.  
It was all that kept him going. 

To this end he hired a Greg Fraser with a team of lawyers. He also engaged a private detective. 

Malcolm had money. 

His compensation payout from the abuse case was more than sufficient to cover his legal costs. He was prepared to blow the lot if it meant clearing his name. 

It was all about dignity. 

His.

About the truth. 

Not losing the respect and admiration he'd won for the way he'd handled himself at the time of his childhood revelations. 

They armour-plated him. Made him invincible. There was no way he'd give this up. 

Never had he felt so strong. So determined. 

For Sam, however, it was as if she'd had her spinal chord cut. 

A creeping numbness that seemed to slowly envelope her. As if she was stumbling through a thick fog, unable to see ahead clearly, things of which she'd been certain, now indistinct. 

Reaching a hand out in front of her, blind, frightened and insecure. 

She'd always been so focused, so in control, seldom experiencing so much as a blip. 

That, was about to change.


	2. Before the Flood.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is Christmas shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the initial introductory chapter, the next few chapters are taking us back in time. To the happy times before the Inquiry begins. 
> 
> This is between the end of Shitehead Revisited and the convening of the Inquiry itself. 
> 
> The chapters are more descriptive, it's Malcolm and Sam together....before the storm, happy, and looking towards Christmas and the future....their future. 
> 
> I also talk a little about the change in Malcolm and how he is learning to be himself, after years of pretending, and punishing himself. 
> 
> I'm well aware that there is no Tiffany store in New Bond Street.....but in this story, there is!!

CHAPTER TWO.  
BEFORE THE FLOOD. 

The months leading up to The Goolding Inquiry had been nothing short of bliss for Malcolm and Sam, as far as their relationship went. 

Since her moment of epiphany at the spa weekend, her 'Paul on the road to Damascus moment'.  
The scales had fallen from her eyes. 

Knowing her true feelings for Malcolm and where she ultimately wanted their partnership to go. 

Telling him had been difficult, she'd agonised over it for some time, because she was afraid. Scared of the feelings themselves and that he didn't share her future vision.  
She needn't have worried, not only did he feel the same, want the same, if anything he felt it more strongly, he'd just been equally as terrified of admitting it to himself and to her. 

Finding out they both dreamed of the same future......together, had been a huge weight off her shoulders.  
Now they had something to work towards, a definite direction in which to travel. 

Marriage. Children, if they were to be so blessed. Commitment. A lasting partnership........a life. 

At some, hopefully, not too distant point.

oOo

Throughout their alliance Malcolm had been learning, with Sam's help, about himself, who he really was. 

Something it had taken him almost till the age of fifty to finally face. 

Years of self abuse and self loathing to master. 

It covered every single aspect of his life. 

The way he saw himself, and how he interacted with others. Particularly women.  
His eating and sleeping habits. His hopes and fears and insecurities.  
Finding the strength of the love he was capable of giving that he never thought possible, and the love he was then able to receive in return. 

The chief manifestation of this was in the bedroom. 

Malcolm's tastes where sex were concerned would be considered fairly vanilla. It wasn't necessarily what he wanted but it was what he considered appropriate, and not in some way 'depraved'. A term which he'd used to Sam when referring to himself.  
His mother taught him to be everything his father wasn't, considerate, gentlemanly, respectful towards women. Not to be forceful or pushy. 

His first wife had controlled him vigorously. He accepted it. Felt he needed to be controlled. It was a deep seated way of thinking that went back to his childhood abuse. That he was in some way a bad person and therefore needed to be punished, or 'kept down'.  
Sex was all about _her_ pleasure, not his own. If he deserved any crumb of enjoyment, he was damn well made to earn it.  
She tried to mould him into what she wanted, a pet dog, a plaything. Submissive to her every whim.  
To her great disappointment she discovered there were places where her husband wouldn't, nay, _couldn't_ , go. No matter how much she whined and nagged at him.  
During one session early on in their marriage she'd attempted to bind him.....he almost lost it completely, became a jibbering wreck.  
It shocked her, but it also taught her a great deal, showed her his fundamental weakness and she callously used that frailty continually against him. Taking him further and further into the submissive mindset.  
She enjoyed seeing him desperate, begging for release, constantly wanting.  
Since he also flipped out when she suggested plugging and/or beating him, she refused his advances unless he wore a cock ring, which rendered him stubbornly hard but unable to come.  
Her next gambit was a lockable cage.  
Told him it was good for him. 

He acquiesced. Went along with it. He pathetically still wanted make her happy. 

But it was poisonous for him. Toxic and destructive. Even cruel. It messed him up even more thoroughly. 

To the extent that it carried on long after his marriage was over and done with. 

Going without. Edging himself. No allowing himself pleasure. Denial. 

Kept him keen, wired, on the ball.....at least this was how he'd come to view himself. 

Slowly, with Sam, he began to discover that this wasn't his natural forte at all. 

For him it began very early on in their relationship, when she first gave him a massage, lavished all her attention on him, making him feel so good......and oh fuck......he'd never experienced anything like that before, something that was purely for him, and him alone, centred on his enjoyment, no reciprocation demanded on his part. So strange. It almost blew his mind. But it also frightened and worried him. 

Because he liked it.

Sam learned from it too.....when he first revealed to her that he required her permission before he could come, trained and conditioned to holding off, looking to her for admonishment if he failed.......it came as quite a shock, it made her angry, because she knew instinctively that this wasn't the real Malcolm. 

Then, on the beach.....

She'd touched him, talked sexily to him, relaxed him.....then sucked him off. Malcolm felt as if his head would explode. 

He came in her mouth. 

Unable to hold back. 

So disgusted with himself, so ashamed, embarrassed by how much he'd enjoyed it. 

Astonished by the strength of his orgasm, at the pleasure she'd willingly given him without requiring anything in return. Petrified of how good it made him feel. 

From that time forward, Sam, being Sam, was determined to further investigate this aspect of their lives. 

There was no rush, nothing forced, nothing planned as such, but gradually, gently, she began to coax out of him what he really liked. Confronting him with his deepest desires and fantasies.  
What he wanted but was afraid to ask for.

Upset by the guilt he carried, his conscience-stricken contrition.......for wanting what, he was convinced, was in some way unnatural. 

Slowly, he began to explore and accept these complicated feelings and emotions. Realising that sexual satisfaction was not supposed to be imposed by one partner onto the other. Instead it was meant to be a mutual and pre-agreed thing. Whether it be dominance or submission. Something which was discussed and consented to, not coerced in any way. 

Malcolm was essentially an alpha male. 

Particularly in the workplace. 

He possessed all the hallmarks. 

Outward confidence. Competitive. Mentally tough. He took risks, walked the walk. Always strong on eye contact. Vocal and loud.  
He believed in himself, didn't need to be anyone's friend, nor seek others validation. He wasn't afraid to stand alone, or stand out.  
He dressed well and was comfortable in what he wore. Never seeking approval.  
Possessing in spade loads, a strong presence, always powerful in his manner and body language. 

Along with these traits went a certain dominance. 

Sam saw it straight away.  
She was surprised and confused by how submissive he was in bed. It went against everything she knew of him. 

Which was why she knew it wasn't right. 

Malcolm wasn't perhaps a true dominant in the fullest sense, because of his background and past experiences.  
Inflicting pain on another was against everything he'd ever been taught, whether it be consensual or not.  
The physical violence he'd been subjected to and surrounded by as a child growing up had made him vehemently against it.  
It may be that Sam would happily consent to being spanked, but he couldn't and wouldn't bring himself to do it....still less something deeper, like restraining her. Seeing her thus would do nothing whatever for him, other than make him nauseous, it was a level of overlordship he considered less about sexual gratification and more about female degradation. At least in his mind. Bringing back memories of his mother cowering away from his father.  
It just wasn't for him. 

But......that being said.......he derived a great deal of erotic enjoyment at the sight of Sam on her knees at his feet. His cock in her mouth.  
Having her pleasure him, lavish attention on him, try to please him, it turned him on more than he could possibly say. This kind of worship was something he craved but struggled to accept. 

The fact that she was willing to dress sexily especially to entice him......he adored it.....he also loved her to talk salaciously to him whilst she touched him.  
It humbled him that she was doing it specifically for his fulfilment. No woman he'd ever been in a proper grown up relationship with had ever done that.  
Acts of submission.  
Allowing him to take her, perhaps a little roughly, especially from behind, while she moaned his name, giving him that feeling of possession when he entered her. 

Powerful stuff. 

Did wonders for his libido. 

His mind rebelled against these feelings at first. Felt they were wrong. Weird. Kinky even.  
She was behaving as if she were his whore, which went against all his finer feelings.....especially since he'd never dared to imagine her as that.....ever. 

Sam began, calmly and rationally to convince him otherwise. With that serene and sensible countenance she possessed.

It was a natural instinct. She liked it. Told him so in no uncertain terms. Loved him to take control. Liked him masterful, relishing his maleness.  
Enjoyed being just a little bit naughty for him, especially when she could see how well he responded. 

"It's just like role play Malcolm, it doesn't mean you're weird, it's fun! I can be slutty, talk dirty to you.  
You can be my master, take me and make me yours.......I like it. It's exciting. It's just bedroom stuff, and there's nothing wrong with it providing it's mutually agreed upon beforehand......okay?" 

She encouraged him to discuss his innermost feelings, shared her own with him, without embarrassment or awkwardness, explained to him how much she enjoyed him giving her oral sex, or teasing her sometimes, making her wait, it rendered her even more eager to please him.....Christ......she was such a filthy little minx sometimes.  
Fucking got him going.  
Got her pretty fired up too. 

So fucking hot. 

Shit! He bloody loved it. How contented it made him feel. Floating.  
She did that to him. 

For him. 

Fucking loved her to distraction.

Cherished every special moment they spent together. 

oOo

Malcolm was Christmas shopping..........

..........in 'Victoria's Secrets'.

Feeling like a complete cunt. 

A dirty pervert. 

Wandering the racks of wispy lacy silky things........fucking hell! 

Seeing this stuff, imagining Sam wearing it.......enough to give him a hard on that would last a week!

There were other men in there too.....buying things for their wives, girlfriends or mistresses. Why didn't they look as shifty and furtive as he felt? 

A grey man in his very late forties.....in a long overcoat.......looking for a suitable Christmas present. 

Was it for her he was buying this? Or for himself? 

It was a fine line. 

Never in his life had Malcolm ever done anything like this, most certainly not for his wife, more especially not for a woman almost twenty years his junior, he, the man that people in the office jokingly referred to as 'daddy'. 

"Can I help Sir?" 

The saleswoman who spoke to him looked sympathetic. 

Thankfully she wasn't a fucking young bit of fluff....she was in her forties. Immaculate. Poised. Kindly. 

"It's a fucking minefield." He replied helplessly. Blushing furiously as she regarded him with a practised air. She'd seen it all before. Wasn't in the slightest bit fazed. 

"Perhaps you could give me an idea of what you have in mind? Then I can help you?" She held his eye steadily, in an effort to make him feel less uncomfortable. She failed. 

"Well.....I want something nice.....for my girlfriend......"  
Oh fuck it! He loathed that expression, made Sam sound like she was twelve and he a hundred. 

"......something pretty.....she likes silk, and black lace......I know she likes your stuff......" He tailed off before he said too much. 

"Okay! Let's see.....what size is she?" 

"A ten." 

"Right! Well that will be okay for robes or nightwear, knickers etc, but if it's anything with to do with bra, bustier, corset, that sort of thing, they come in bust and cup sizes, inches or centimetres......." 

Malcolm swallowed heavily. 

"She's a thirty-four......C.......I sneaked a look in her drawer before I came out......." 

The woman, who's name tag read 'Muriel. Here to help' gave a little encouraging smile. 

"Then that's all the information we need." She responded pleasantly. "Would you like me to show you our most popular lines?" 

"Yeah......that'd be good......" 

Malcolm trailed in the wake of 'Muriel' around the store, pausing beside hangers filled with exquisite lingerie. 

Some half an hour later he emerged triumphant carrying two carefully tied pink and black bags.  
Complete with ribbon and tissue paper and all that shit. 

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a Tesco carrier bag and dropped them both inside....heaven forfend he should meet someone he knew! 

Expertly gift wrapped he'd chosen a three quarter length Chinese silk robe, with a tie waist, in red and black, and a wisp of black lace confectionary that went under the dubious name of a 'teddy'.  
It was basically a little jumpsuit, with a zip at the plunge back, strapping across the bust that he thought looked vaguely bondagey, but which 'Muriel' assured him looked very nice on, it was close fitting, with a tiny gold heart sewn onto the low cleavage. 

He'd hesitated momentarily as he spotted lace up corsets there too which were quite gorgeous and very alluring, but he'd been too scared to buy one.....wasn't that a just bridge too far?  
Fuck if he knew. 

Sam happily wore stockings and suspenders for him sometimes, and they did things to his brain that were akin to being slowly deep fried, so a bustier wasn't beyond the realms of possibility.....

Still, what he'd chosen was really pretty, and very sexy.......

He certainly liked it. 

Hoped Sam would too. 

Christ! He was such an idiot.

Headed off down Oxford Street. 

Into Selfridges. 

Looking a perfumes. 

Sniffing various fragrances. 

Sam liked subtle scents, nothing loud or ostentatious.  
His ex wife had been the opposite. She'd liked Dior.....Poison.  
This was ironic on two counts, firstly that her choice matched her demeanour and the fact that he always referred to that particular smell as 'poisson'. The heady stink of fish!  
He'd bought her some Chanel once, because he'd liked it, but the bottle had gone in the back of the wardrobe unused. 

He caught a whiff of the 'Poison' as he circled the counter.....it made him physically retch. A horrible, painful memory. 

The sales assistant looked at him hopefully. "Yes, Sir......?"

"Um......I wanted some Chanel Number Five.....but I er....I got that last time, so I was wondering if there was anything else? Something as good, and a similar style......." 

"I have indeed. Would you like to try this one? I'll put some on a card for you....." 

Picking up a bottle with her beautifully manicured crimson nails, she sprayed a rectangle of paper, waved it in the air for a few moments, then handed it to him. 

Malcolm sniffed it appreciatively. It had floral overtones, similar to that of the Chanel, which he loved, but it was slightly more subtle, hints of jasmine and roses........

"I like it.....a lot!" He nodded. "What's it called?" 

"It's called 'Joy', Sir. It's by Jean Patou......it's quite expensive........"

"I don't give a fuck about that......it's lovely, and Sam will love it......I'll have some please....and can you gift wrap it?" 

Malcolm was reminded of the movie 'Love Actually'. You all know the scene. Where Alan Rickman's character is trying to buy a gift hurriedly, and Rowan Atkinson is the counter salesman.  
Fucking ages he stood there.  
Watching her. 

A box.  
Tissue paper.  
Sprig of lavender.  
Length of black ribbon.  
Gold glittery wrapping paper. 

Ten fucking minutes or more. 

By the time she was done Malcolm was feeling very hot around the trouser legs. Very anxious to be back outside. Couldn't stick the stifling heat a moment longer. 

Free at last, he wandered idly through the throng and down New Bond Street. Intending to grab a restorative coffee. Christmas shopping was exhausting!  
The stores all looked so pretty and festive. 

Passing Tiffany's. 

With its duck egg blue old fashioned blinds, arched casement windows. There were little decorated Christmas trees with blue and silver baubles.  
His attention was taken by the display, he stopped to look.  
A necklace caught his eye. 

It was a small padlock, shaped like a heart, with a tiny matching key, both threaded onto fine chain. In rose gold.  
The Tiffany name was engraved on it, and the words 'please return to....' 

Malcolm didn't spend anymore time thinking. Pushing open the door he entered, the bell above it tinkling. 

Oh boy.....he was about to part with some serious money!


	3. A Proper Chrimbo.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas in the Tucker house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second of the retrospective chapters, following on directly from the last. 
> 
> Malcolm arriving home after his shopping spree and seeing something which brings back a poignant memory. 
> 
> Ramsey being Ramsey. 
> 
> Christmas Day. Spent with friends.

CHAPTER THREE.  
A PROPER CHRIMBO.

It was almost dark when Malcolm arrived home.  
A drear December afternoon when it was murky by four o clock. 

Letting himself into his house he noticed a Christmas wreath fastened to the front door which wasn't there when he left that morning.  
Homemade. A circle of real holly with berries, pine cones and other foliage, on a mossy base, with a red glittery bow hanging down.  
He allowed himself a little smile. 

Entering the hallway, he was greeted by a flushed and cheery Sam, wearing fluffy slippers and what looked like an adult baby-gro.  
With reindeer on them.  
Hair piled up in a bun on top of her head. She sported a streak of dust down one cheek and cobweb on her shoulder.  
Two large boxes of baubles balanced precariously in her arms. 

"What the fuck?" 

Sliding his Tesco carrier behind the hall stand out of sight, he divested himself of coat and scarf and dropped a kiss on her sweaty forehead. 

He could hardly fail to notice the banisters of the stairs were now resplendently adorned with Christmas greenery, bows and festive lights. 

Mistletoe suspended from the hall light fitting. 

"I've been up in the attic !" She beamed happily, ignoring his wide eyed stare. 

Glancing up the staircase, Malcolm could see the loft hatch in the landing ceiling, standing open with a ladder beneath it. 

"For fucks sake Sam.....why didn't you wait for me? You could have broken your neck!" 

"Rubbish! It's fine. I was hunting for all my boxes of Christmas stuff, the ones we shoved up there when I moved in.......Malcolm......I'm not being funny.....but do you not possess any decorations? I was looking for some.....there's boxes and boxes of crap up there but I could only find mine.....?"

"I've never owned any. What's the point? There was never anyone here but me to see them." 

She gazed at him with a mixture of sorrow and pity. 

"So you've never put any Christmas decs up? Ever?" 

"Not since I was married. No! I'm not usually here anyway. I usually fuck off up to Nancy's for a few days. Return after Hogmanay." 

"Okaaaayyy! Well, you might get a bit of a shock then......"  
If it was possible she blushed even more crimson. 

"Oh Christ! What the fuck have you done?" 

Brushing briskly past her, he opened the door to the living room. 

Standing........frozen.....his eyes sweeping around the room.......Sam hovering beside him, hopping from one foot to the other her hands clasped at her breast with unrestrained excitement. 

"What do you think?" She asked breathlessly. 

Malcolm was struck dumb. 

The lounge looked like a page from 'Homes and Gardens' magazine. A grotto.  
Along the mantle was a swag of greenery, interspersed with baubles, little Father Christmases and pillar candles, there were strings of twinkling fairy lights everywhere.  
A huge sleigh and reindeer card holder hung along the back wall, with their Christmas cards displayed in it. 

The main event however, was an enormous Norwegian spruce. 

Filling the bay window. 

It smelled of a gorgeous piney fragrance which permeated the room. Decorated so beautifully. As only Sam could do. Artful. Creative.  
All in reds and golds and greens. Baubles, bows, striped candy canes, strings of gold and red beads.  
Pale white lights winked on and off. A fairy sat on the top, the topmost branch disappearing up her skirt, a children's model crib beneath, which Sam had possessed since the dawn of time. 

"Fucking fuck me!" He breathed. 

"Well? Do you like it......?" 

"I love it.......but........it's....." 

"But it's what?" Sam's face fell. 

She was looking into his now, trying to read his expression, thinking at first that he hated it......but it wasn't the case at all. 

His eyes were watering. 

"Malcolm.....? Whatever is it? What's the matter?" Threading her arm through his, she turned him to face her. 

"It reminds me......" He stopped and swallowed, his head drooping. 

"What Malcolm? Tell me....." She enquired softly, her hand coming up to his cheek. 

"When we were just wee wains......." He was choking back tears now. ".......the old Pettigrew's department store in Sauchiehall Street......it was huge, the biggest store in the city. It was bought out by House of Fraser I think......but it was always Pettigrew's to us, and to our mam.....she used to take us there to look at the Christmas window displays......it was magical to us kids, Sam......just like fairyland, they had a grotto, Santa Claus, everything. Me and Nance.....with our faces pressed up against the glass......fuck me......" 

"Oh Malc!" Drawing him close she hugged him tight. 

"......it was like a dream to us.......at home we had a few paper chains, a little tinsel tree which got packed up and bought out again, year after year......" 

Breaking free of her embrace but keeping tight hold of her hand, he walked closer to the fir tree, breathing in the scent. 

"It's lovely." He said finally with a sigh. "Quite lovely." 

oOo

Malcolm was seated at the kitchen counter, sipping hot chocolate. So happy. So contented.  
His shopping spree had gone far better than he'd expected. The sitting room looked like a happy childhood dream or memory all rolled into one, plus he and Sam were discussing Christmas Day, when they'd invited Jamie and Laura to join them.  
In spite of the precarious work situation, his home life couldn't be better. 

"Still a mystery to me how you managed to manhandle that fucking great tree into the car and then into the house...." He mused. 

"The man at the garden centre did it for me that end......and Betty's young son next door....John......helped me when I got it here......he's a strapping lad, we managed it together." 

Ramsey began rubbing around his ankles, purring loudly. 

"The wanderer returns!" He remarked, smiling down at the cat fondly. 

"Ah....he's back is he?" Sam replied and hurried to fasten the cat flap peg. 

Since his errant nocturnal escapades came to light, Malcolm had fixed a 'Ramsey proof' fastener to the flap, so that he was kept in after nightfall, out of trouble. 

"Has he seen the lounge yet?" Malcolm enquired absentmindedly, bending to stroke the velvety tabby ears. 

"Not yet. He's been out on the prowl all day."  
Sam was busying herself with dinner and only really lending half an ear to the conversation. 

"Come on then boy....come see what your mama has been doing all day....." 

Malcolm walked down the hallway, still carrying his mug, the cat trotting at his heels like a dog. 

"I swear he understands every frickin' word I say....." He remarked, as he entered the living room, Sam following not far behind. 

"Yeah!" She laughed. "He gives you that certain look......as if to say.....'mmm, I know what you mean, human'!" 

For a few seconds the tabby tom circled the tree warily, sniffing at it, seemingly taking it all in......then suddenly, and without warning.......he was scrambling aloft.  
Baubles flying in all directions, as the tree shivered and shook, branches bowing under his weight. 

Before either could move or even shout a warning, he reached almost to the top before gradually, as if in slow motion, the pine began to topple forwards.....there was a crash, a frantic scramble and a flash of electricity as the fairy light cable was wrenched from the plug socket. 

"OH GOD! MALCOLM!" Sam shrieked. 

"CATCH HIM!" Malcolm cried, making a one handed grab for the treetop before it hit the deck. 

"FUCKING HELL!" He yelled as his cocoa slopped from the cup into a puddle on the floor. 

Ramsey hit the floor and made a dash for safety, running under the kitchen table, his fur standing on end, tail as thick as a fox's brush. 

"THAT FUCKING MENTAL ANIMAL!" 

Sam stared in dismay at the carnage that had, moments before, been her beautiful creation. 

Suddenly she started to laugh. She laughed and laughed and laughed, tears streaming down her face. 

"Oh lord.....Malcolm.....your face.......I've never seen.......anything so......funny......oh bloody hell....." 

Gazing around herself at the chaos......and at Malcolm, who was still holding the shattered tree with one hand, his cup in the other.....precariously teetering in its Christmas tree stand......a foot from the floor.......poised........swearing his head off, cursing the furry fiend that was their pet. 

Her amusement was infectious.....he began to grin himself.....then to chuckle......then, with his head thrown back, to chortle uncontrollably, a little squeak in his throat as the mirth caught and held him, he sank to the carpet, unable to hold either himself upright, or the weight of the tree.....which finally came to rest with a sorrowful CRUNCH. 

"Oh fuck.....my stomach.....my face aches....." He grimaced, as another outburst hit him. "That fucking cat is a liability.....I swear to God!" 

It took them an hour to right the tree. For Sam to redecorate it, and for Malcolm, with a screwdriver to fix the lights and reconnect them.  
When all was finished, Malcolm went to fetch the still cowering Ramsey, carrying him back into the lounge.  
Holding him firmly in his arms as he wriggled with evident apprehension. 

"Look! You daft bugger!" He stood next to the tree, letting the cat sniff at it to reassure himself. "You're not meant to fucking climb it! Not this one.....now stay away.....alright?" He scolded, addressing himself to the anxious moggy with a smile. "Just....NO! Okay?" 

He set the cat back on its feet. Sniffing again, tail in the air, Ramsey marched away.....never again would he repeat the exercise. Lesson learned!  
Malcolm puffed with relief. 

oOo

Christmas morning was a grey dismal one. 

Malcolm Tucker didn't care. 

Torrents of rain beating against the windows. 

Malcolm still didn't care. 

He was awake early. Curiously excited. As he'd been so many years ago as a small child. Before his life turned into one of fear and self loathing. The memories were so clear.  
There would be a woollen stocking at the end of his bed. Perhaps two or three small presents. Maybe a much loved Annual, probably Rupert Bear or Blue Peter......Beano or Dandy.  
A little red net bag containing chocolate coins in gold and silver foil and an orange or tangerine or a satsuma, depending on what was available cheap at the market. But it was wonderful. 

Turning his head to the side, he beheld the sight that made his life worth living. 

Sam. 

She was stirring slightly, her eyelids fluttering, hair fallen forwards over her face.  
Nude. Curled into the warmth of his body, close.  
Reaching out a finger he brushed her brunette tresses back, tucking them behind her ear.  
Languidly her eyes opened, and she broke into a heart melting smile. 

"Merry Christmas Malc." She whispered softly. 

He leaned forward to kiss her. 

"Happy Christmas love!" 

"Eww! Morning breath!" She giggled. 

"Sorry!" He sat up, swinging his legs out of the bed.....to find Ramsey curled up at the bottom of the duvet. 

"That fucking cat has managed to get in again......" He remarked as he stretched and yawned, heading off to brush his teeth. 

"Doesn't matter, leave him......it's Christmas!" She laughed. 

"You want some tea?" Malcolm leaned, naked, against the doorframe. "What time does the turkey have to go in?" 

"Not for ages yet, it's only a small bird, there's only four of us....and we'll still be eating it for a week.....and Malcolm.....put some boxers on for god's sake......." She replied, eyeing him with a lascivious smirk. 

"What time are they coming?" 

"Around half one.....we've got loads of time.....all the prep is done......I wanted a lazy morning, just me and my man......." Her voice was low and silky, and Malcolm knew his body would soon respond if she kept looking at him like that. 

"I'll make tea......then we'll see if Father Christmas has been......." He said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. 

oOo

Returning with a tray, two cups and his presents loaded onto it, she sat herself up as he perched on the edge of the bed. 

"What's all this?" She asked, with a frown. 

"Your presents.....Santa has been.....they were under the tree......" 

"But Malc.......you said we were only buying each other a token.....we agreed......." She looked stricken. 

"Well......I wanted to get you something nice......." He tried to sound apologetic......but he really wasn't. 

"Here.....this one first....." He handed her the first of the three parcels eagerly. 

Unwrapping carefully, and agonisingly slowly, Malcolm could barely contain himself.

"Hurry up....it'll be a Boxing Day....." He huffed. 

"I don't like tearing the paper!" She laughed in return as she revealed the black lace lingerie inside. 

"Oh my god! Malcolm......did you choose this?" 

He nodded......looking like a little boy......excited......expectant. 

Holding it against herself, her face flushed and her eyes shining.

"You mean you went to the shop......not online?" She was incredulous. 

"Yeah.......don't you like it?" 

"Like it? Malcolm I LOVE IT! It's perfect......so pretty.....and really sexy......shall I put it on for you?" 

Crawling behind him, she put her arms around his throat, kissing his neck and making him shiver. 

"Fuck yeah......" 

She sashayed into the bathroom and emerged moments later.....resplendent. 

"Fucking fuck me!" Malcolm breathed. "You look stunning. That is one good fit........" 

"Happy Christmas Malcolm........!" She perched herself across his lap, almost purring like a cat. 

"That's all I want for Christmas....you.....wearing this......fucking hell......" He breathed.

"........I can't believe you actually went into the shop.....let alone chose it.......I fucking love you Malcolm Tucker!" 

"Open the next......before my brain turns to mush and I'm so aroused I can't think straight any more........" 

Sam giggled coquettishly and picked up the next present, whilst Malcolm did his best to keep his eyes averted from her lace covered cleavage. 

"You didn't.......?" Her eyes were wide as she drew out the bottle. "Malcolm! What am I going to do with you?" 

He shrugged his shoulders, then gave her what he hoped were puppy eyes. 

"This is 'Joy'......and it's the real McCoy......not the eau de toilette....... Malcolm......seriously.....you shouldn't have done this.......I told you......I don't need you to buy me expensive things......it's you I love......" 

She sprayed her wrists, rubbed them together and sniffed appreciatively, her eyes rolling up into her head in ecstasy, then offered him a sniff. 

"Lord! It's exquisite.......what on earth do I say to you? So much money!" 

"Are you pleased though?"

"Oh Malcolm! Of course......do you need to ask......?" 

"Then that's all that matters......open my last one now......." 

He reached behind him and gave the smallest gift to her with a shy smile.  
Shifting on his lap and unconsciously rubbing against his boxer covered crotch, she began to unwrap it carefully. 

"What on earth? OH MALCOLM!" She drew the necklace from the padded box, with a gasp, looking at it closely. 

On the heart shaped padlock, where the words 'please return to' were written, he'd had engraved one word.......

'Malcolm.'

Sam burst into a flood of tears. Clinging to his neck. Kissing him over and over. 

"It's symbolic. I'm giving you my heart, and the key to it.......everything.......I want you to have it, yeah? 

"I love you.....so so much.......thank you, thank you........oh Malc.......I accept it truly! Just as long as you'll take mine in return?" She said gently. 

Sitting forwards she let him fasten it around her neck, her chest jerking every so often as she tried to stem her sobs. His hands stroked down on her shoulders, lying her gently back onto the pillows.  
Turning her.  
Kissing her deeply in answer her question. His mouth tasting hers, his lips alternately touching with a gentle peck, then latching on hard. 

Her breaths became short and she held him tight, keeping him in place. Touching his face, his hair, his chest.

"You haven't opened my presents yet......" She murmured. 

"Later......" He whispered.

She wriggled free, with a frown. 

"No! Now! We can do this later.....please Malc.......?" 

"Okay then.....bring it on!" He released her reluctantly and sat up. 

From underneath the bed she drew two parcels. 

"Mine aren't as exciting as yours." She said apologetically. 

"Sam.....I don't care.....I didn't want anything at all....just you......" 

He unwrapped the first, ripping the paper off without a moments hesitation. 

"Fucking hell Sam?" 

"It's an iPad Pro 9.7.......it's to take the place of the laptop that was stolen.......but it has a word processor, all the writers use them now, and a detachable keyboard.....it's for your future Malcolm.....it's for when that rainy day comes......you know?" 

Malcolm smiled wistfully.

"It's not far away." He said quietly. "I guess you know it as well as I do.....eh?" 

"Yeah......and I'm not scared Malcolm......because we will be fine.....you and me....together.... whatever is around the corner......you know that right?" 

"I thought we agreed a token.....this isn't a token either!" He scolded. 

Leaning his head into her chest, he buried his face into her soft and fragrant skin. 

"Merry Christmas Malc........" Her fingers raked through his hair, tugging him closer. 

Eventually he pulled away and she handed him a large rectangular gift, tied with ribbon, her eyebrows raised expectantly. 

"What's this?" 

"It's something I made......especially for you......" 

"A book......you made me a book?"

"Not quite, open it......." 

Malcolm turned the volume in his hands carefully and opened the first page. It was a picture album. 

A collection of Sam's beautiful photographs, some from their holidays, others captured around London or in the courtyard and inside their home. There were several of both of them and a few of Sam alone, taken with a timer delay, and a few landscapes and architectural shots. But most were of Malcolm himself.  
Candid. When he was unaware he was being photographed. 

They were the best pictures he'd ever seen, especially of him, since he always hated having his photo taken. 

He leafed through the pages slowly, his fingers trembling, shaking his head in disbelief......

"You took all these.....? Fuck me Sam......you are so talented, you know that.....?" 

Her chin rested on his shoulder as he looked carefully at each one.....until he reached the end.....the final portrait. 

Outside little church, in the hill village they'd visited on their Italian holiday, where they were caught in a sudden downpour. Running for shelter. That day was etched so clearly in his mind.  
The first time he'd been inside a church......since......since......forever.  
It had made him gag, the incense smell, the atmosphere, the memories, but he'd forced it all down.  
Lit a candle, knelt in silent prayer. 

Bursting outside again afterwards with relief, just as the rainclouds parted and the sun emerged. 

She'd caught him, in that instant.......standing with his back to her.....head back, eyes raised towards the sky, arms held out to the sides, as if in supplication.  
The fanned rays of the sun bursting down and around him, lighting him and him alone, a spotlight from the heavens.  
Celestial.  
Casting a shadow onto the ground behind him, which resembled outstretched wings.  
The moment had vanished in seconds but she'd snapped off one single shot.

Malcolm stared at the photograph, then looked at Sam.....then back at the page.....

"Fuck." He whispered hoarsely. "I look like an angel........" 

Tears spilled down his face unchecked. 

"......how did you even get this? So perfectly.....the light, the exposure.....everything......?" 

"Luck." 

"That's not luck Sam......that's fucking divine intervention....." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

"Merry Christmas my angel." She kissed his cheek gently. "Don't cry Malc......it's supposed to be a happy day......."

"Fuck Sam.....but I love you......how can a person be this happy? It's not possible.....not for me at any rate......give me a hug yeah?" 

She enveloped him in a warm embrace. 

"It IS possible......I didn't think it was either, but it is.....I love you Malcolm Tucker....more than life itself.....now can I just ask one thing of you.....?" 

"Fuck.....anything Sam.......ask me anything......" 

"Make love to me, please.....I want you......." 

They lay snuggled together, the rain still lashing down outside. 

Warm, sated, breathing gradually slowing, returning to normal, he still inside her. 

Dozing. 

Someone's stomach growled. 

"Shall we shower together, then have breakfast and I'll put the turkey in the oven?" She yawned and stretched, separating from him reluctantly. 

"I'm right behind you." He whispered, nuzzling against her neck. "This is the best fucking day!" He added. "It's been a very long time since I've enjoyed a Christmas as much as this....even our first year wasn't like this....." 

"We weren't together! You went to Nancy's and I was with Paul.....we hadn't been an item long.....I rang you in the evening......remember?" 

Malcolm smiled.

"Yeah, I remember.....for an hour! Come on woman.....up!" He smacked her backside playfully. "Christmas dinner won't cook itself!" 

"Yes Sir, my Master......I live to serve you!" She giggled. 

"Don't fucking talk like that......I like it too much......you'll get me going again." He growled and followed her sheepishly into the bathroom.


	4. Eat, Drink, and be Merry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Day with Jamie and Laura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of the retrospective. 
> 
> The next will be back to the present day again. 
> 
> Malcolm and Sam are spending the day, and New Year with Jamie and Laura. 
> 
> There is a great deal of fun and humour here. 
> 
> Malcolm is thinking about the future, making plans......

CHAPTER FOUR.  
EAT, DRINK AND BE MERRY. 

Malcolm and Sam finished preparing the lunch together.  
Most of the prep had been completed beforehand. 

Malcolm was tasked with making the Yorkshire pudding batter, since it was his speciality. 

Afterwards he disappeared for a while and Sam left the kitchen to go in search of him. 

In the living room.  
Ramsey curled on his lap, scratching behind the cat's ears absentmindedly, a glass of scotch at his elbow, as he leafed once again through the album she'd made for him. 

Coming up behind him, she threaded her arms around his throat, kissing his neck. 

"You okay darling?" She whispered. 

Turning his head sideways to try to kiss her, he smiled. 

"Yeah. I'm good......just looking through this again. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever been given. The most personal, I love it so much Sam.......I really do." 

She kissed his ear. 

"I'm glad you're so pleased......come on.....let's get the veggies finished, Jamie and Laura'll be here any minute." 

oOo

It was a Christmas to remember, and in the months that followed it was a lone beacon which shone brightly and provided a much needed anchor. 

Jamie and Laura arrived with huge wide smiles on their faces.  
They positively glowed.

It soon became apparent as to why this was, once the hugs and kisses and 'merry Christmas's' were out of the way. 

"What's up with you two? You look like you've just won the fucking lottery....." Malcolm smiled. 

Laura blushed scarlet and held out her left hand, waggling it slightly. 

A diamond sparkled on her third finger. 

"Jamie has asked me to marry him.......I said yes....." 

Sam burst with a little shriek of excitement, flinging her arms first around Laura and then, turning to Jamie, holding them out to him too. 

Pulling him close. Whispering in his ear. 

"Oh Jamie.....I'm so happy for you......well done you.....this is the best Christmas ever!" Her eyes were wet. 

Jamie stood in front of his best friend, looking at him searchingly. 

"Well?" He began.

"Come here you daft sod! Give us a hug!" Malcolm reeled him in, wrapping him into an embrace, slapping him firmly several times between the shoulder blades. 

"Dammit mate! So fucking pleased for you......both of you, when's the wedding?" 

"Next year, not sure when......we have to find a venue, you know.....lots to plan! You'll stand beside me though Malc? Like you promised?" 

"Course I will! I told you......speech, stag night, the lot.......you can count on me!" 

"And I want only one person to be my bridesmaid......and that's you Sam......will you do it?" Laura asked, flushed and serenely happy.

Sam gasped. 

"Laura, I'd be honoured......but what about friends you've known for a long time? Would you not chose one of them?" 

"No, Sam. I want you......because you've been a better friend in the short time I've known you, than all of them put together. You are my first and only choice." 

The two women cuddled each other again. 

"Well!" Malcolm clapped his hands together. "This calls for champagne! And a toast....."

Leading the way into the kitchen, which was filled with wonderful cooking smells, he went to the fridge and produced a bottle of LP, removing the cage and popping the cork with his thumbs, it shot up almost to the ceiling. 

They all gave a whoop, and held out their glasses to be filled. 

"To Jamie and Laura......to many many happy years ahead and a Merry Christmas to us all!" 

Malcolm beamed, his eyes glistening. 

"God bless us, everyone!" They all laughed heartily. 

oOo

Jamie McDonald groaned and pushed his chair back, rubbing a hand over his somewhat distended belly. 

"Fuck me.....I'm stuffed!" He puffed. 

"That was the best grub I've ever tasted!" Laura said, draining her glass. "I always thought my mum's Christmas dinner was the best, but I'm afraid that you have just about topped it!" 

"I'm sure it wasn't that good!" Sam coloured visibly. 

"It wasn't!" Her friend replied. "It was better!" 

"Lets leave the clearing up and go in the living room and chill for a bit.....I need to let this lot digest." Malcolm suggested. 

Flaked out. Stupefied. Even Ramsey, who had been given a plate full of turkey and gravy was content to lie stretched beside the hearth, unable to move. 

oOo

Rejuvenated after a kip, as the afternoon waned, rather raucous games ensued. 

Malcolm complained that he didn't do games.

"Well, you do now.....have another drink and shut up moaning!" Sam scolded. 

The language became more and more 'sailor on shore leave' the more wine was consumed. 

Being half pished and playing Twister, resulted in such shrieks of laughter and banterous shouting that the cat sauntered off in a huff for the relative peace of the kitchen. 

"Left hand....red." The dial was spun. 

"For fucks sake Sam.....you are at a definite advantage here.....being so fucking bendy!" 

Malcolm was leaning across Jamie's body, who was holding himself up somehow, legs and arms outstretched like a starfish. 

"Right foot.....yellow....Jamie, that's you." 

"That's it! Can't be done! Malcolm.....your arse is in my face......if you fart now you'll blow my fucking socks off!" 

Sam dissolved it a fit of hysterical giggles. 

Laura began to slide on the plastic mat, wearing tights, she was unable to prevent it. 

"Spin the fucking dial.....Christ! Jamie.....is it your feet that stink? Jesus! It's like Gorgonzola!" 

"I need a fucking piss!" Malcolm announced to the world in general. 

"Well don't do it here!" Laura was almost in tears now, her sides aching with laughter. 

His middle gave way, and he sank to the floor with a cry of 'fuck!' 

"......I concede defeat to my dearly beloved.....who is clearly made of elastic......and thank god she is....because it means I can just lie back when we're in the sack and think of England....or rather, Scotland!" He added, with a slur, trying to bring himself upright.

"MALCOLM! REALLY!" Sam was scandalised. 

"That's fucking hilarious!" Jamie finally collapsed in a heap on top of his friend. 

"Cunt! You'll make me throw up.....you're on my stomach! Move for fucks sake!" Malcolm puffed. "I'm done! Vanquished! Who wants more vino?" 

Game over. 

oOo

It was very late. 

The four were in the kitchen eating turkey, stuffing and cranberry sandwiches. 

None of them felt the slightest bit hungry.....but, well.....you've got to haven't you?

They'd just finished a game of 'dirty charades'......which was basically ordinary charades but all the titles had to be something either revolting, rude or downright filthy. 

Malcolm had silenced everyone by graphically acting out _'The Dark Knight Rises'._

But to be fair to him the others had also variously lewdly attempted to mime, _'Deep Impact', 'Dirty Harry', 'Die Hard'......_ which caused much hilarity......until Jamie reprised it with _'Die Harder'........_ making Sam spit out some of her wine and the rest came down her nose........closely followed by the inevitable _'Free Willy'_ and finally Malcolm's pièce de résistance......' _Pacific Rim'......_ during which Laura laughed so much she was nearly sick. 

Jamie's head was drooping now, his eyes becoming unfocused. 

"It's been a fucking good day, Malc mate......a fucking good day! But I'm awa to ma bed!" 

The two men shook hands and Laura helped him up as they staggered down the hall to fetch their coats. 

"Aye. I'll see ye in a coupla days......at the station, right?" 

"Aye......10.21......night Sam......thanks for a fucking wonderful time hen......" 

"And you Jamie.......and congratulations to you both.....I'm so happy for you......it's been lovely......"

They kissed and hugged and finally reached the front door. 

"Merrry Chrisstttmasss!" He whooped as a parting shot and together the pair tottered off down the street. 

oOo

They travelled up to Scotland together. The four of them. 

A happy bunch. Full of laughter and chat. 

At times Malcolm found himself sitting back against the headrest, just watching the other three. 

How had this happened? 

It was difficult for his head to compute it all. 

Pure happiness. 

An alien concept. 

Arriving at Glasgow Central, there were all the McDonalds to meet him, to meet the four of them. 

Alex and Caitlin rushing forwards to fling their arms around Uncle Malc. Faces pressed against his coat. 

So special. 

That night he lay next to Sam in the spare bedroom. In the bed that squeaked.  
Their heads next to each other on the pillow. 

Malcolm wasn't sleepy......or drunk......not with alcohol at least. 

He felt alive. 

Loved. Cherished even. 

Kept telling himself it was all real. 

Thinking for the umpteenth time about the conversation he'd had with Sam, at home, when she'd divulged all her innermost thoughts, hopes and dreams to him.  
Turning it over and over in his mind.  
Briefly he'd considered asking her to marry him on Christmas morning. Then he thought better of it.  
Glad he hadn't now, didn't want to steal Jamie's thunder.  
If he was honest, he wasn't sure what had held him back. 

He wanted it with every fibre of his being. It was what he'd always wanted.  
A wife who loved him for himself, that he could love in return. A family. A proper life. 

But after the Tickell suicide and the call for an Inquiry, he knew that things would be tough.  
Just let him get that over with, nothing would come of it anyway.  
A pointless, expensive Inquiry into why a man died, one who had sadly fallen through the system, Malcolm had told them all it would end in tears, he'd been spot on on that one.  
Come January, it would soon be over, would only last a week at most. 

Flirting with the idea of resigning. Had been thinking about that for a while too. Especially since the day in his office when he'd discovered Ollie and Phil as thick as thieves. No doubt plotting. 

Then.......then the time would be right. 

He'd take her away somewhere. Where the sun was shining and the sky was blue, where it would be pleasantly warm, away from the short, dark days and the drear winter weather.  
Get down on one knee at her feet. Look up into her lovely face. Ask her. 

Yes, that would do it. 

That was a good plan. 

Turning onto his side he snuggled himself into Sam's hip. She hummed drowsily into his skin, unconsciously wrapping her arms around his body.  
He was hard.  
But that could wait.  
It was the dead of night, the slightest movement in this bed sounded like the _Bonzo Dog Do Da Band!_

New Years Day. 

This year was going to be a good one. He could feel it in his bones. 

He couldn't have been more wrong.


	5. Paradise Lost.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm has a meeting. One of many. 
> 
> Sam is starting to struggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present with this chapter. 
> 
> Christmas is now a distant memory. 
> 
> It is July/August. The Inquiry has come and gone. 
> 
> Angela Heaney is the first to offer Malcolm support, at the risk of losing her own job.

CHAPTER FIVE.  
PARADISE LOST. 

Malcolm Tucker wasted no time and no tears. Months passed. 

In July the Inquiry was convened. 

The aftermath of it barely touched him. 

The stories, the press articles. None of it. He was immune.

Instead, he channelled all his seething anger into positive. 

As well as hiring a Greg Fraser and his legal team. He engaged a Private Detective. 

Jim Lawrence. A nice man, ex police officer. Sensible. Knowledgeable. With friends still on the Force who were not above helping out an ex-colleague. 

Everything would be working towards the trial. Malcolm would have his day in court, and he would be fucking ready. 

Guilty of many things he may be......but of this? He was innocent. 

Angela Heaney rang him a few days after the scrum on the steps of Hackney Police Station, when she'd almost lost her job. 

"I'm here for you Malcolm. Whatever it takes. Whatever you need from me. Just ask okay?" 

As a top investigative journalist she was worth her weight in gold to have on his side, and he was grateful. 

There were two main avenues which were to be followed up. 

The first that Malcolm had perjured himself at the Inquiry, both in denying leaking the details of the unfortunate Mr Tickell, coupled with the fact that it was implied that he was responsible for Baroness Sureka's non appearance during some of the Inquiry days, accused by the press that he'd somehow sought to undermine her credibility and standing.

Not true.

Secondly that he was guilty of Misconduct in the Workplace for illegally obtaining and using Mr Tickell's medical records and phone number in the first place. The evidence of which was the photograph shown at the Inquiry, showing him in possession of said numbers.   
Evidence which both he and Sam knew to be falsified.   
By whom? 

These were his two main focus points. 

Malcolm had fallen a long way. From colossus to gnat. 

His reputation in the gutter. Along with his pride, his dignity. 

Universally vilified and hated. 

A simple trip to the theatre one evening, turned into a heaving mob. Cameras flashing, people catcalling. He and Sam were spat upon. 

"Get that bloody camera lens out of my face before I shove it up your fucking shitter......" 

One hand up over his eyes to shield them, clutching a terrified Sam by the hand, as they made their way through the throng to a cab, jumping inside to make their escape. 

Sam was sobbing. Inconsolable. 

"Don't Sam. Don't let the fuckers get to you. They've got nothing. What they don't know they make up! They'll get bored eventually. It'll go quiet until the trial begins." 

But it didn't. 

The following day was when the article and the pap picture of her and Laura at the cafe appeared, with the revolting insinuation that she was little more than Malcolm's fancy piece. 

The changes in Sam came very slowly. 

Subtle. 

Malcolm barely had time at first to really notice.

Because he was off having meetings with his legal team, they were quietly investigating the other people who testified at the Inquiry.   
Chiefly Glenn Cullen. Oliver Reeder. Peter Mannion and Stewart Pearson. There was a great deal to look into. 

Angela, meanwhile, was doing some digging on the damning photograph which first appeared heavily cropped in the press, but was shown uncropped at the Inquiry and was subsequently reprinted by The Mirror under a banner headline.   
She wanted to know who took it, and where the original was to be found. 

Jim Lawrence was looking into a little sideline of his own. 

Daniel Miller MP. 

Now busily campaigning to be the new Opposition Leader. 

This wasn't Malcolm's idea. It was his own.   
Whilst still on The Force, Miller had come under Lawrence's radar a couple of times, nothing major, but a little suspect, he had even been questioned once, in connection with rent boys, but had managed to wriggle free.   
The information in Malcolm's dirt files were passed over to him, and he began to make some gentle inquiries. He also began to discreetly tail the man, making a note of the places he frequented, who he hung out with and generally what he did when he wasn't being Dan Miller, the all round good egg, whiter than white, condescending, simpering Member of Parliament, and thoroughly upright citizen. 

Malcolm came home from one of these meetings to find Sam lying upstairs on the bed.   
She'd been crying, that much was obvious.

"Love. What are you doing up here? It's the middle of the afternoon......come on, you can't let all this get to you. What's upset you so?" 

He gave her a cuddle, soothed her, and she seemed alright again. 

It was a blip. 

She was feeling low. It happened. 

A week passed. 

"Do you fancy going to the new restaurant in Piccadilly. I hear it's good?" Malcolm stepped out of the shower. 

Sam was sitting listlessly on the edge of the bed. Staring blankly at the wall opposite. 

"Sam?" 

She seemed to snap out of a trance, and turned to him dully. 

"No. I want to stay here with you." 

"You can't shut yourself away darling, you've hardly been out all week." 

"I don't want to. I like being here." 

"How about I ask Laura to come over.....maybe you girls could go shopping?" 

"No thanks. Laura asked me the other day, but I didn't fancy it. I don't feel like shopping." 

Malcolm wrapped a towel around his nether regions and crossed to her side. Sitting on the mattress next to her, one arm around her shoulder. 

"This isn't like you Sam.....what's wrong?" 

She leaned away from him. 

"Nothing's wrong! I'm just tired. Leave me alone Malcolm, I'll be fine." 

"But......Sam......can't I even cuddle you? Make you feel better? Mmm?" He stroked the top of her arm gently. 

"I told you. I'm alright! I'm just tired and hormonal.....I'll be okay......don't fuss!" 

Her tone was slightly defensive, almost aggressive. She shrugged his hand away and stood up, walking briskly into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door firmly behind her. 

Malcolm sighed. 

Leave her to it, let her sort it out in her own mind.   
Sam was strong. She'd tough it out. He'd be there for her. Always. Told her so, through the bathroom door. 

Was that crying? 

He wasn't sure, then the tap was running, so he couldn't hear properly. 

"I'll go make us some tea." He called. 

oOo

Malcolm was up very early. 

He had a meeting with Greg Fraser. 

But that was later. 

Right now it was Sam that was on his mind. 

He made and took her breakfast in bed. 

As he came in with the tray, she sat up, yawning, then smiled. 

"This is lovely. Thank you Malcolm." 

He sat on the bed to join her as she ate. 

Crunching on a triangle of toast. 

"What you got planned for today? Pilates this morning isn't it?" 

"Not this morning." She blushed slightly and her head drooped. 

"Why not? You always go to your class."

"It's been cancelled. I got a text from Joanne yesterday. They've had a leak at the gym." 

"Oh. I see. Well, what about a run then? You love running." 

"I've got a bad knee." 

"Really? You didn't mention it." 

"I don't have to tell you about every ache and pain I get do I?" She retorted sharply. 

Malcolm was taken aback. 

"Sorry, Sam......I just thought........should you see the doc?" 

"What? NO! It's a fucking sore knee! Who goes to the quack with that? If I rest it, it'll recover!" 

"Okay. No need to snap my head off......I love you......yeah?" He bent his head down, raising her head with a finger under her chin. "Sam?" 

"Sorry Malc......I guess I'm a bit sensitive at the moment.....I've got plans today anyway......"

"Oh......well, that's okay then....." He glanced at his watch. "Listen......I've got to go.....I'm meeting Greg in half an hour....." 

"I'll see you later." She replied sullenly. He reached over to kiss her, but she turned her face at the last moment and he brushed her cheek. 

"Sam.....have I done something wrong? If I have.......please......tell me......don't shut me out like this.....please."

"NO! It's not you. You haven't done anything......I love you.....truly......I just feel.....I don't know......anyhow....."

"Look! How about you meet me for a nice lunch?" 

"I can't Malc......I'll be busy......." 

His face fell. 

"Okay, darling.....I'll be back around three......" 

Sam waited until she heard the front door close. 

Reaching for her phone. Dialling. 

"Hi! Joanne? It's Sam. Yeah. I was just ringing to say I won't be at Pilates today, I'm feeling sick....I think I'm going down with something......." 

It was beginning......


	6. The Fucking Pharaoh.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is worried about Sam. He asks Laura to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite an involved meeting with quite a lot of dialogue. 
> 
> I worked quite hard on getting the exchange right and I hope it is comprehendable and not too boring.  
> I wanted to avoid a 'he said'/ 'he said' scenario but it's basically one man speaking to the other. The information is all stuff I've gleaned from watching and analysing the Inquiry episodes. Most of it is actually there, there isn't much surmise on my part. 
> 
> It's as accurate as I can make it.

CHAPTER SIX.  
THE FUCKING PHARAOH.

Malcolm climbed into the car. He dialled Laura's number, then stuck on his hands free, and drove away. 

"Laura! Hi, it's Malcolm." 

"Malcolm? To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"Laura. I'm worried about Sam.....and I need your help....." 

"Sam? Why? What's wrong with her?" 

"I'm not sure. But I'm worried......could you do me a favour and pay her a call, have a chat with her, see if you can find what the problem is? Please? I wouldn't ask, only......" 

"I'm working Malcolm......but I'll try and take an early lunch, go over to yours.....is that alright?" 

"That would be great. Thanks Laura. I appreciate it. I'm meeting Greg this morning I'll be back around three....." 

"Consider it done. I have to go Malcolm, I have a call waiting. I'll speak to you later." 

oOo

"So, Greg.....what do you have for me?" 

"Quite a bit actually. Come and sit down." 

Malcolm sat himself in an armchair in Fraser's office and his friend passed him a coffee. 

"This whole thing Malc......the more I look into it the more it stinks to high heaven. I have so many questions about the way the whole thing was handled......do you know much about Lord Goolding?" 

"Not a damn thing.....other than he's a staunch peer for the Government side in the House of Lords....."

"I'd go further than that Malcolm......I'd say distinctly biased. He also went way over and above his remit. We would have grounds to have the whole Inquiry examined......whether you were guilty or not!" 

"What do you mean?" He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

"Malcolm......look at it from an outsiders perspective.....as if you were the average 'Joe Public' not affiliated to any political party, would you have felt the Inquiry did its job?" 

"I guess not......." Malcolm took a sip from his cup.

"Bet your sweet Fanny Adams it didn't! What was the purpose of the Inquiry?" 

"To look into the death of Tickel.......and then to look into the culture of leaking....."

"Exactly!" Fraser banged a fist on the desk. "And they come to no resolution whatever! In fact I'd say they almost go out of their way NOT to come to a resolution on these issues. In fact they fail miserably."

Malcolm remained silent, deep in thought. 

"Malcolm.....is the death of Mr Tickel really properly looked into? I'll answer for you.....an emphatic NO! Where is the press in this? The Inquiry was supposed to ask questions of them as much as the political parties......so why are they absent?  
The only thing they thoroughly dig into is YOU, Malcolm......and most of the stuff they accuse you of.....being a bully, your fearsome reputation and all that codswollop is from years and years back....."

"When I was the fucking Pharaoh......." Malcolm interjected.

"Quite! It has zilch to do with what they are supposed to be investigating! I mean....bugger me....everyone on the Government side gets off with a slapped wrist and a gentle scolding.....not one hard question is asked of the people who are actually in power! The people who put Tickel in a tent for a year before he bloody topped himself!" 

Greg paced the floor as he spoke. 

"They don't even CONSIDER.....let alone explore, any alternative theories for who may have leaked the information, once they fastened on you! Pearson walks away with barely a scratch....integrity intact.....apparently they take his word that you have more to gain from leaking than anyone else......Malcolm.....the focus is ENTIRELY on you!! 'It's a fair cop guv....it's me what done it!' Bullshit!"

Leaning forward the lawyer refilled Malcolm's cup.

"You're right. They seemed to accept that it must have been me.....at the same time they never explain HOW or even WHEN I was supposed to have done this.....I guess they just had it in for me!" 

_"Good God Malc! It's supposed to be an Inquiry not a bloody popularity contest!!"_

"Sam said the whole thing was flawed. She said she should have been called to give evidence, she was there throughout most of what went on......she was surprised not to be called..."

"Malcolm, if anyone was stitched up royally it was you! Framed! By spin! And how is spin defined? Lies and innuendo! And this from a supposedly UNBIASED Inquiry based on tangible evidence.  
I mean.....what have you ever done that Pearson hasn't? If you are such a terrible person, then so is he! Whether you're guilty or not! You were fucked the moment that photo was shown...."

Malcolm nodded his head in agreement.

"Floored me that.....I must say......nothing I could say in my defence that they would have believed! At that point it went all fucking Hogwarts on me.....and as Master of the Dark Arts, I know as well as anyone that an appearance of guilt counts!" 

"I noticed that it floored even Murray too. She wouldn't categorically say you did it.....despite your apparent blatant betrayal of her." 

"Yeah, well, she felt guilty, because she failed to speak out when I was shafted by Fleming, way back." 

Fraser sat back down opposite his client, steepling his fingers in front of him. 

"I must say you seem remarkably calm! Hell's bells Malcolm.....something else I want to know, is why they allowed people to deflect attention away from themselves when giving testimony.....Fergus, Pearson, the lot.....they SHOULD NOT have taken that bait.....they let them all off the hook. Christ! If that committee only just realised how unethical political practises are at that moment, then they are INCREDIBLY naive!  
Your worst crime was refusing to play their game! Everyone else lied. Only you proudly showed off your handiwork.....with Helen's notes and the Quiet Bat People......and then you called them out...."

"Yeah.....holier than fucking thou......"

"Exactly! Malcolm we have a strong case here, for a complete re-examination, of the whole Inquiry and everything that went on there. Almost everyone committed perjury....I'm certain of that.....and I'm sure when we dig, that more evidence will come to light. I want to see them try to lie in a court of law! They'll be done for perverting the course of justice if nothing else......why should it only be you who has their collar felt? You were a damn scapegoat, and it baffles me why no one else has asked themselves the same things!" 

"Ha! I'll answer that for you! Because they don't want to, Greg. They've got their pound of flesh! Someone to blame! Now they just want it all to go away! What they don't seem to take into account, is that for two years I've had no fucking power.....none at all.....I can't pull those lofty strings.....not anymore. Christ, I only have limited control over my own party, and absolutely none over the public or the Government......so how the fuck am I culpable for everything? There are plenty just as guilty as me.....if not more so.....how were they let off the hook?  
Do you think the Inquiry was rigged.......is that even possible? Fuck me!" 

"Of course it is! The only concrete resolution that the Inquiry came to, is that you MAY or MAY NOT have had some numbers in your possession.....and that you MAY or MAY NOT be linked to a leak of privileged medical information.....that's it......and if the CPS refuse to take it to trial, they all get away with it........if they throw it out we'll know for certain that there's something fishy going on." 

Malcolm puffed out his cheeks. 

"Fucking hell. What a can of worms! You realise they are not going to want this to come out don't you? It'll make the Government look bad......they won't like it." 

"That's not the point Malcolm. The Government are answerable to the people. They deserve to know the truth. And so far they've been fed a tissue of lies.....and your head like fucking John the Baptist, on a sacrificial platter. It's not right Malcolm....and it's just not cricket! We live in a democracy......where the truth must not be hidden. It should damn well be heard! And you should be vindicated!" 

oOo

Malcolm left his lawyer's office in a daze. 

But he also left with hope. He would have his day. They would know. Everyone. His colleagues, his opponents, the press, the public......EVERYONE. 

Heading home he felt lighter than he has for some weeks. 

Reaching in his pocket for his mobile, he found he had a number of messages. 

He dialled. 

"Laura! Hi! Sorry I was in a meeting." 

"How'd it go?" 

"Not bad! I'm hopeful.....we have a case, but it's up to the Crown Prosecution Service.....whether they want to investigate or not, or if they'll charge me. Did you see Sam?" 

"Yeah, I did. I think she's just a bit depressed Malcolm. Low, y'know? All this madness has got to her a bit.....all those letters, and the mobbing by the press and stuff. I think she feels nervous about it all, about what people think of her, and I think she's a bit scared too......" 

"That's what I thought too, but I was worried.......I've seen the signs before.....shit, I've fucking lived them myself......"

"Well....I'd monitor it, keep an eye.....I'm sure she'll pull through it, she's strong, and she knows you love her.....I'm sure she'll be fine......." 

"Thanks Laura.....I really appreciate it......you're a dear.......I'm on my way home now......" 

oOo

Letting himself into his home he found Sam asleep on the sofa with Ramsey curled next to her. 

She was in her pyjamas, although it was three o clock in the afternoon. 

It was also clear she'd been crying again. Her face was swollen, her closed eyes red rimmed. 

Malcolm knelt on the floor beside her. 

"Sam? Darl?" 

Her eyes opened slowly. She seemed surprised to see him. 

"You're back early!" 

"Said I'd be home around three.....it's that now......are you okay?" 

"I have a splitting headache." 

"You want me to get you some tablets.....make tea?" 

She nodded dumbly, sitting up with a wince. 

"I'm glad you're back.....I missed you......Laura popped round earlier......" 

"Did she? That was nice of her." 

In the kitchen Malcolm put the kettle on, found some nurofen, took them back in to her.  
She was sitting where he left her, staring into space. She looked lifeless, listless, unnervingly quiet. 

"Here, take these." He handed her the tablets and the cup. 

Necking the medication without even looking at it, Malcolm sat down beside her on the sofa. 

His arm around her shoulder. 

"It went well today......I think......" He ventured. "......with Fraser......" 

She didn't reply. Detached. 

"We might get our day in court after all......." 

Turning towards him, her eyes seemed to swim. 

"They won't want to talk to me will they? Give evidence I mean......in the spotlight.....all the media, the publicity......." 

"I don't know love......maybe. It depends. It's a gonna be a long road......but we'll be okay.....won't we? You and me?" 

"I guess." She shrugged her shoulders. "I HATE them Malcolm. All of them.....Pearson, Mannion, Reeder......I hate them for what they've done to us, what they're putting us through now.....and there's no end to it is there? It just goes on and on......the lies, the vilification......the nastiness....." 

"Sweetheart.....I have an idea......come upstairs......I want to......." 

"Oh Malc.....not now for Christ's sake......" She interrupted. "......is that all you can think about?" 

"Hey! Hear me out." He sat back, a hurt expression on his face. "You don't know what I'm going to say......." 

She frowned at him, looking sceptical. 

"Go on then......" Her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. 

"Come on......" He held a hand out to her. "Follow me......" 

Trailing after him like a lost sheep, her hand in his loosely, they went upstairs to their bedroom. 

"Take your things off, and lie down......" 

"Malcolm, I told you...." She began.

"Just do it......please Sam......." 

Reluctantly she obeyed. Laying herself naked on the bed. 

"Turn over.....lay on your tummy.....I'm going to give you a massage......make you feel nice......is that okay with you.......?" 

Biting her lip guiltily she silently acquiesced. 

Taking some fragrant oil which she'd often used on him, he knelt on the bed at her side and began to smooth his hands over her skin gently at first, then with more strength. 

"Pressure okay?" 

"Mmm hmm." She murmured. 

Up and down her spine, to her shoulder blades, then her neck. His hands warm, the touch one of great tenderness. 

For a few moments she remained quiet, a little groan every so often, as his fingers found a sore spot. 

"Does it hurt there?" He asked, kneading the place. 

Only a nod answered him, then....

"Hurts everywhere." She whispered. 

He continued, focusing on each vertebrae, finding knot after knot. 

Suddenly and without warning, her body began to tremble, she began to weep softly. 

"Hey! My darling girl......come here." He ceased his ministrations and gathered her to him. 

She clung to him and sobbed as if her heart would break. 

Beyond speaking, not saying a word. 

He held her close and tight. Comforting her. 

"It's okay. I'm here. I love you Sam. I'm here for you.....always.......my dear one......hold on to me...." 

She cried herself out. Eventually falling into a fitful asleep in his arms. 

Leaving her to rest, he ate a lonely dinner while she slumbered on. 

He came up to bed around ten and she was still out for the count. Dimly aware of him climbing in next to her she curled herself against him with a whimper, and he cuddled her close again. 

Waking in the early hours, he found the bed next to him cold and empty.


	7. Her Rock.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm discovers a few things about Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't think I write this flippantly. 
> 
> If depression is a trigger for you then stop reading now. 
> 
> But too often the illness is pushed under the carpet. Taboo. Not to be spoken about. 
> 
> So that's what I'm doing. I'm writing about it. I'm putting it out there and saying....hey, there are people out there who struggle. On a daily basis. 
> 
> But they cope. They continue. It's not the end. There's help out there and you can get better. There can be light at the end of the tunnel. 
> 
> Now I'm not a doctor, nor am I qualified in any way, other than what I've seen and cared for as a nurse. I merely write what I've witnessed or experienced or even felt myself. I'm not saying there are miracle cures. 
> 
> Sam is lucky, she has support. Her depression has a specific cause. That's not the case with everyone. 
> 
> But it's out there. It's real. It happens.

CHAPTER SEVEN.  
HER ROCK. 

Malcolm sat up and reached for the beside lamp. 

The light temporarily blinded him, and he rubbed his eyes with a groan. 

Leaving the bed, he slid his legs into the cotton shorts he'd discarded earlier when he'd felt too hot.  
Checking the bathroom, there was no one to be seen and no sound to be heard.

"Sam?" He hissed into the darkness.....no answer. 

Padding downstairs he peeped into the living room, she wasn't there either. 

"Sam, where are you?" Just a hint of concern in his voice. 

Entering the kitchen, he almost fell over her. 

She was sitting on the kitchen floor, next to Ramsey's cat bed. The tabby fur ball was in her lap, purring like a steam train. Her face was buried in the warmth of his coat, weeping softly.

"Sam? What on earth are you doing? It's three in the morning." 

He slid his body down next to her, his backside connecting with the cold floor tiles. Propping himself up against the kitchen cabinet. 

"Couldn't sleep." She muttered, and hid her face again. 

"C'mere!" He held his arms open to her and she leaned into him with a wrenching sob. 

"You're frozen.....how long have you been down here?" Malcolm cuddled her into his side. 

"Don't know.....ages......" 

"You're not tired because you slept so long earlier......." He stroked a hand through her hair soothingly. 

"I am tired. Very tired. All I want to do is sleep." 

"Tell me what is troubling you so, sweetheart, if you don't talk to me I can't help you.....and I want to.....I'll do anything for you, you know that, right?" 

"I want it to stop Malcolm. I don't like it. Every time I go out something happens......a man in the supermarket last week......he came right up to my face......" 

"Fuck....you didn't mention......what did he say?" 

"He said.... _.'you're her aren't you? The slag that hangs around with that lowlife Tucker, why do you stay with such an odious man, you're no better than he is!_ '........I ran all the way home, it was horrible." 

She started to cry afresh, deep wracking breaths, her shoulders shaking with each one. 

"Oh Sam. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. All of it. Look what I've reduced you to." He pulled her closer. 

"It'll never end Malcolm, I can't see any way, we will always be hated, by everyone, it'll go on and on and on. Every time I set foot outside the house I feel like everyone is staring at me. I see them nudge each other, point and pull a face. People follow me, or I think they are. Sometimes they even shout across the street. Something lewd or nasty, or they just swear and call me names. I just.....I just want......I just want the merry go round to stop. I want to get off." 

He held her head against his bare chest. His hand circling her back. 

"Then I'll drop it." He said quietly. 

"What?" For a moment she ceased, raising her eyes to look at him. 

"It means a lot to me Sam.....clearing my name......but it doesn't mean as much as you do. NOTHING is more important to me than you......if it's a choice between the two, then there's no contest.......listen......it's cold here, come back to bed and we'll talk some more......okay?" 

oOo

Nestled against him, still giving a little mewing sound every so often. 

Malcolm sat propped against the headboard with pillows. 

"We'll go away somewhere, would you like that? Up to Scotland.....or to The States......you could visit your brother? We can sell this house, move away......go anywhere......anywhere you want......" 

"You'd do all that? For me?" She sat up beside him, her hand resting on his sternum. 

"Fuck yeah! I'd do anything to make you happy Sam. You're all that means anything to me in this fucking shit world. Look how many times you've been there for me. Look how often you've pulled me back from the brink......time and time again.....without you I probably wouldn't even be around, or if I was I'd be sectioned! Well.....now it's my turn. Fuck it all......I don't care anymore, I'll drop the whole fucking thing......if that's what you want." 

"It isn't what I want though. Not really. If you dropped it, backed away, everyone would say you were guilty as charged. _'If he didn't do it, why doesn't he put up a fight?'_ And you would always wonder. What would have happened if you'd kept going, pursued it.......and you know what Malc, it would eat away at you, slowly but surely. It would poison everything. You would begin to look at me and see me as the one who stopped you. Resentment would fester and gradually it would sour our whole existence....." 

"That won't happen......" 

"You say that.....but a year, two......ten......down the line.....when people still bring up the subject, when people recognise you and dredge it all up again.......it would destroy us......and it would make you bitter and resentful....." 

"Then what the fuck do I do?" He held up his hands in despair. "I'm damned if I don't, damned if I do......all I know is.....I want you to be happy......and I don't want to lose you.......and I feel as if I am.....that you're moving away from me, and I'm fucking terrified." 

"I'm scared too......and I feel alone. Like this Inquiry thing is all consuming ......" 

"Darling, I know I've been a bit obsessed lately with all this......but, you're NOT alone......I'm here....always, I'm always here for you.......that's never gonna change, and no matter what happens, and there are other people who love us.....Paul and Nancy, the family....Jamie, Laura.....we have them......." 

"Kiss me Malcolm......hold me close......please......?" 

He was only too happy to oblige, as lately she'd rejected his advances, his mouth latching on to hers as if he were a drowning man.  
Tender. Longing. Loving. His whole body responding to her. 

"Sam, can I make love to you......will you have me? Please, I want you,.....I want to show you how much you mean to me.......and this is when I feel closest to you.....here.....now......together....."

She nodded, biting her lip, pulling him down over her. 

It was a long, slow loving. Deep penetration, his thrusts timed to meet the rising of her body beneath him. He whispered her name many times, spoke to her with each of his measured strokes within her. She clung to him in return, weeping as she neared completion, he held himself back, determined that she should derive every ounce of pleasure she possibly could, before he climaxed himself with a gasp, and they both stilled.  
Holding each other for dear life. 

"I fucking love you." 

"I fucking love you too." 

oOo

Malcolm was hopeful. 

For a day or two she seemed better. Brighter and more engaged. 

But it didn't last. 

Her reluctance to leave the house worried him, then he noticed other subtle changes. 

She wasn't eating. 

Well, she was.....but only a little, her appetite seemed stilted. When she did eat, it was all crap...a biscuit, a square of chocolate, one triangle of pizza. 

The result was that she lost weight. Noticeably. 

He attempted to tackle her about it, in a gentle way, and to encourage her. 

She met him with a vicious broadside. 

"Sam, shall we go out to lunch? Just somewhere quiet......out Richmond way or something?" 

"I don't want to." 

"Why not? It's a lovely day......." They were sitting together in the kitchen and she was chasing some cereal around a bowl with her spoon, playing with it but not eating it. 

"I'm not hungry!" 

"Well, not now you're not, but you will be by lunchtime.......it'll do you good to get out of the house..." 

"What the fuck are you on about!" Was the angry riposte. 

"Well, you are indoors all the time, I thought it might be nice, the sun's shining......I thought maybe we could walk in the park there, it's lovely this time of year. There are loads of deer......." 

"I don't want anyone to see me......I look like shit." 

"Sam.....you do not look like shit. You are beautiful.......you always look beautiful......" 

"Ha! You're just saying that to try and make me feel better. My hair is like string and I'm too fat....."

"What? You're not fat......you're a size ten. Or at least you were......" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her eyes were fierce, her mouth set harshly. 

"Well, don't think I hadn't noticed.....I wasn't going to say anything......but since you've bought up the subject......you've lost weight Sam, it shows......I know the fucking signs for Christ's sake....been there, done that, got the t shirt......" 

"What, are you my fucking therapist now?!" She slammed the spoon down aggressively, splashing milk and cheerios over the counter. 

"No! Sam......God no.......but I care about you......desperately, and I want to help you.....if you'll let me in, just stop fucking shutting me out......" 

"I........" She stopped, her face crumpling. 

Malcolm came to her side, speaking quietly, taking her shoulders and turning her to face him. 

"Sam, listen to me.......before I went to see Faversham.....you were the one constant for me. You encouraged me, tried to help me, gave me valuable advice.....it in no way qualifies me to do the same to you......but credit me with the intelligence to recognise certain signs in you that I failed to see in myself.....I'm not a fool, and you are depressed. For whatever reason......and the first step to helping yourself is to realise it.......I know that better than anyone.......so please.....please Sam....." 

"I don't need your help! Or anyone's fucking help......just......just leave me the fuck alone." 

She twisted herself from his grasp and stormed away up the stairs. 

Malcolm gave a sigh. What the hell was he going to do now? 

Taking his keys and mobile, he called to her. 

"Sam, I'm popping to the supermarket. I'll only be twenty minutes......okay?" 

No answer. 

He left the house and headed for Waitrose. 

Wandering the aisles, in a daze, picking up a few choice items with which he hoped to tempt her for dinner later. 

"Hi! It's Malcolm isn't it?" 

He stared at the young woman in front of him without recognition. 

"Sorry.....you don't remember me, we've only met briefly, once......it's Joanne, Sam's Pilates instructor." 

"Oh! Yes......hi!" 

"Is Sam better now?" 

"Better?" 

"Yeah.....from her stomach upset? Only she hasn't been back, and I wondered.....I texted her but didn't get a reply......" 

"But.......the leak........I thought......." Malcolm's brain was whirring. 

Joanne was regarding him without comprehension. 

"Leak?" 

"At the gym.......I thought the classes were cance.........um, never mind.......yeah she's recovering thanks....it was a nasty bug......." He was flustered beyond reason. 

"Well, give her my love........" The woman called to his retreating back, he gave a cursory wave of the hand as he hurriedly paid for his items and rushed back home. 

She'd lied. 

'Oh Sam! 

How has it come to this? 

And it's all my fault.'


	8. The Black Hole.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is slowly becoming worse. 
> 
> Malcolm is trying to take care of her. 
> 
> He meets up with Angela Heaney, who has some news for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again all the symptoms of depression are in this piece. So if it's a trigger for you don't read. 
> 
> Lots of you will recognise the signs. 
> 
> As for Angela, most of the conversation here is my own careful gleaning from the Inquiry episodes. I've watched it through dozens of times, picked apart the dialogue and come to various conclusions. 
> 
> Obviously it's subjective and you may not agree with me. But that's fine. We all take different things from the words. That's how it should be. Interpretation.

CHAPTER EIGHT.  
THE BLACK HOLE. 

Autumn. 

Samantha Cassidy felt as if her entire world was crumbling around her ears. 

Nothing seemed to fit anymore.

The world around her seemed black and she, within it, felt lifeless, empty and apathetic. 

Things that once gave her joy, now made her tearful. 

A sense of impending doom, a downward spiral from which there was no escape and no end. 

Malcolm tried, she knew he did. 

In fact he was a dear. 

He did most of the cooking, and the shopping. 

Loved her, cuddled her, talked to her, tried to make her feel good. 

The massage had been so welcome, although it made her feel as if she would burst apart with emotion.  
Another evening he ran a bath for her, with bubbles, and candles.....took her hands and helped her step inside.  
Sat on the floor next to the tub, his arms leaning along the edge, chin resting on them. 

She'd looked into his eyes then. So deep. They reminded her of the sea. They weren't blue exactly, nor yet green or grey, but somewhere in between.  
Right now they were full of concern, pain even. 

And it smashed her to bits to see it in him. 

Because the pain and the hurt and the worry was all for her. She was the cause of it.  
It made her feel like shit. 

What the fuck was wrong with her? 

Always so strong. So so strong. 

Suddenly the sadness seemed to engulf her. 

Ramsey never left her side, followed her from room to room, latched on like a furry leech. 

Everything seemed so bloody hopeless, and she helpless to do anything about it. The laughter sucked out of her, the fun, the joy.......gone. 

The future bleak. 

How would it ever change?  
They would always be the couple everyone hated. The man who was callous and evil enough to leak the medical details of an ill and lonely man. Forcing him to eventually commit suicide.  
The person who had performed countless similar acts, nasty and mean spirited. Heartless and cruel.......and she, by association, was a part of that. Was complicit in his 'crimes'. His cohort, his creature. Like some kind of hard-hearted underling, young and easily manipulated, that together they were the evil twins.  
Unfeeling, unsympathetic. Inconsiderate and insensitive. 

How she hated herself. 

Loathed everything about herself. 

She wanted to just disappear. Fade away. Melt into nothingness and be no more. 

Food became torture. No appetite whatever. Eating in front of Malcolm was a game of cat and mouse. For every mouthful she made sure he saw her take, three more went under the table and into Ramsey's willing mouth. 

Sleep was difficult. During the day she could barely function. Easily able to drop off at any given moment. Mainly on the sofa.  
At night it was a different story. Restless, and stubbornly awake.  
Roaming the house in the dark whilst Malcolm slept. 

By morning she was so physically drained she could barely put one foot before the other. 

Angry with the world. Unkind to Malcolm, when he was trying so hard, and that made her feel like shit too.  
Because she loved him.  
And she could see how much he loved her. 

Not once did he lose patience with her. Always gentle. Endlessly caring and thoughtful. 

Yet she pushed him away, even lashed out at him once. Saw him flinch. The sorrow in his eyes, as he stood there and let her do it. 

Punched and slapped him. Quite hard. 

Which made her feel worse still. 

Every bone in her body ached. Every muscle. 

Stopped running, stopped Pilates. 

Going out became as much a trouble as eating. 

Leaving the house caused her to have frightening panic attacks. Breathing rapid. Cold and clammy. A feeling of faintness.  
Terrified of being recognised, of being shouted at. A camera lens shoved into her face, or a microphone.  
The poison pen letters had petrified her to the point of prostration. That someone, a perfect stranger, would wish either her or Malcolm physical harm.  
No one else took them seriously, least of all Malcolm, but they affected her deeply. Frightened her profoundly. 

No one seemed to understand. 

She could see no light at the end of the tunnel. 

Just a life of continued isolation. 

A black hole. 

oOo

The restaurant was quiet. Only a few diners.

Malcolm found a booth and sat down, waiting. It wasn't long before his friend arrived. 

"Hi Angela.....how's tricks?" 

Standing, they embraced briskly and he planted a kiss on each of her cheeks. 

"I'm making my way Malc.....you know me.....and the threat of the tribunal worked in my favour. I'm going to make them grovel. They owe me....big time." 

"What are you gonna do?" 

"A big piece on the Inquiry. I'm going to town Malc......I'm going to get a large cage, fill it full of pigeons, then I'm going to throw a damn great ginger tom cat in with them!" 

"Christ!" Malcolm peered at his friend over the top of the menu. 

"The coalition are the ones _with_ and _in_ power.....they are the ones who have all the opportunities to do harm. Exhibit A.....Mr Tickel.......offered housing once......refused it.......then the Government washed their hands of him. Did they lift a finger to help him after that......or resolve the issue?  
Did they fuck!  
All they did was sit around complaining about him and sending each other rude emails slagging him off. How's that for caring?  
The Inquiry's prime task was to look into this......they didn't. My article is going to ask WHY?" 

They ordered their lunch. Angela continued by laying into Peter Mannion. 

"That wizened old fart Mannion was the Minister in charge of the department which threatened to cut down his tent and drove him to suicide. They had no sympathy at DoSAC and no one tried to help him. They just wanted him to go away and stop making a fuss." 

"Their official statements weren't openly hostile though.....although they did get stronger as the protest continued......" He observed.

"Yes.....and then the media latched on to the story! Holy batshit! Suddenly they realised it made them look bad!  
Their housing policy was implemented/ he was made homeless/ protesting in a tent /they sent the bailiffs to evict him/ he killed himself! They were bloody shitting themselves!" 

"We don't know when the details of his mental health issues first came to light though.....do we?" 

The waitress bought their plates and they ate solemnly, chatting as they did so. 

"Where did you hear it first?" She asked, pointing her knife at him. 

"Fuck me! I don't remember! But I knew before it was public knowledge.....but shit Ange..... everyone else did too.....I wasn't the only one.....not by a long chalk, it was common knowledge in the corridors!" 

Angela frowned. 

"It was in Mannion and co's interest to paint Tickel like a mad shouty looney.....irrespective of whether he was ill or not. He was bullied.....and they didn't care. All they wanted to do was discredit him. They fed that line to the tabloid press.......because, as you and I know only too well.....that's where most public opinion is formed!" 

Leaning back in his seat, Malcolm folded his arms across his chest. 

"They didn't want the fucker to kill himself though.......it made things worse for them. I look at it this way Angela.....if they DID possess his medical info, and they thought for one moment he might be unstable enough to injure himself, then they had a right or even an obligation, to detain him for his own safety under The Mental Health Act, and not leave him to run amok....but they did nothing."

"Oh come on Malcolm! Tickel didn't make the coalition look like fools.....he's just a minor thorn in their side, it's the fact that they allowed the whole situation to escalate into a big deal.....that's where they look incompetent! And none of this was even touched upon by Goolding.....he and Sureka were too busy laying into you!" 

Malcolm laughed in spite of himself.

"Yeah....you're fucking right there! And I had no fucking power at all......I was talking to Greg about that the other day. Fuck me Angela.....I specifically asked Nicola to call for the Inquiry.....to call out the government for picking on a guy who was suffering from depression......I tell you......I come from a background of depression.....I know what it's fucking like......I didn't think I'd be the one fucked up the arse in the end!" 

"And that is what my piece will say......I'm determined on this Malcolm. I'm not holding back. I want bloody justice to be done. I think there's something distinctly rotten in the apple barrel.....it might even go right to the top....and if it does.....I damn well want it to come out. Especially if the CPS decide not to pursue it." 

"I wonder how long it'll be before we know? It's doing my fucking head in....it's all consuming!  
It's making Sam ill too.....I almost want to drop it." 

"Don't you dare! We HAVE to do this Malcolm.....this is corruption right at the top of the tree, it needs rooting out! We deserve it.....the public deserve it, and so does poor Mr Tickel." 

Malcolm glanced at his watch. 

"Listen Ange, I need to get back. I don't want to leave Sam at home on her own longer than I have to......" 

"Blimey! It's not that bad surely......." 

"Oh it's worse sweetheart......much worse! It's like a fucking black hole."


	9. A Cry for Help.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam reaches rock bottom. 
> 
> Malcolm suggests a break away in their favourite spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going for a few days break is a tonic. 
> 
> Sam is realising that she needs outside help. It's part of the healing process. 
> 
> Sometimes that step is the hardest one to make.

CHAPTER NINE.  
A CRY FOR HELP. 

Malcolm left the restaurant and jumped into a cab. He'd spent longer with Angela than he'd anticipated.  
There was a missed call on his phone from Sam, but no message. 

He dialled her. 

No answer. 

"Shit." 

He leaned forward and knocked on the glass partition.

"Step on it will you mate, I need to get home ASAP!" 

Letting himself into the house, he hurried down his hallway, heading straight for the living room. 

On entering he got quite a surprise. 

Seated on the couch was Jamie. 

Sam was beside him, curled under his outstretched arm, clinging to him, both her arms tight around his middle. Her head on his chest. Sleeping. 

"What the f......."

Jamie saw the look in his friend's eyes, and shook his head gently, holding a finger up to his own lips to prevent the indignant outburst he expected to come. 

Very slowly and carefully he slid his arm from around her shoulder, gently extricating himself from her limpet embrace and letting her floppy head rest on a cushion. 

Standing, silently, he crossed the room and took Malcolm's arm at the elbow. Leading him into the kitchen. 

"Don't fret yourself Malc.......it's not what it looks like......I got a call.......she was in a terrible state. I came straight over." 

"Fuck!" Malcolm put his head in his hands. 

"She'd tried phoning you, she said. Got no answer. So she tried me.......I came as soon as I could." 

The look his friend gave Jamie was one of great pain, he tried his best to explain.

"I'm not sure what had happened......but she was hysterical......said there was someone hanging around outside.....but I didn't see anyone......it took me a while to calm her, and she wouldn't let me out of her sight, just hung on to me like Velcro......fucking hell Malc.....what the fuck's happened to her......she looks so thin?" 

"I'm at my wits end Jamie......honestly......I thought she'd be okay.....get over it, you know. It's all this stuff with the inquiry.....the backlash, the letters, press attention, all the fucking circus."

"Holy shit Malc......and I've been so busy with faffing around over wedding things this last month or so, I've hardly had time to see her.....or you for that matter.......I had no idea......" 

Malcolm was distractedly taking down cups, finding teabags, putting the kettle on. 

"Shouldn't she see someone? A doctor?" Jamie suggested, tentatively. 

"She won't see a doctor......I suggested it.......but I know better than anyone what it's like......and I wouldn't have agreed to go to a quack either.......not to be sent packing with a pat on the head and a box of fucking Prozac....."

"But Malc......." 

"No Jamie........you can talk to someone who is depressed until you're blue in the face......you can advise, shout, try to persuade, cajole, whatever the fuck you want.....but unless the person themselves wants to seek help, it can only ever be that......advice.....persuasion......the decision has to be hers......all I can do is be there for her.....help her.....love her.......and today I fucking wasn't....." 

A slight noise came from behind the two men. 

"Malc?" A tiny whisper. 

"Sweetheart!" 

She rushed to him, hurling herself at him, her arms around his neck. 

"There was a man......outside......with a camera......trying to take pictures......." She sobbed. 

".......I was so scared.......I couldn't get hold of you......so I phoned Jamie and he came......" 

She turned a tear stained face towards the fellow Scot, and held her hand out towards him. Jamie reached out and clasped her fingers, squeezing them tight. 

"It's okay hen......anytime......alright?" 

She buried her face into Malcolm's shirt. Weeping anew. Jamie, having released her hand, shuffled uncomfortably. 

"Listen.....I'm gonna go, leave you two to it. Call me.....or Laura.....if you need us.....okay?" 

The look that passed between the two men, was one of deep understanding, sympathy, and mutual trust. It was worth a king's ransom. 

No words were necessary. Malcolm nodded almost imperceptibly. Gave a tight smile. 

McDonald left, quietly closing the street door behind him. 

Malcolm smoothed a hand against Sam's hair. 

"Come on sweetie.....lets have some tea......get comfortable.....we'll stick the telly on....." 

"Malcolm......I need to see someone......will you help me?" She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

"You know I'll do anything for you.......anything.......I fucking love you, and it's breaking me into bits seeing you like this......knowing I can't physically do anything to make it better......or make it go away..."

He drew her close to him, the hand now holding the back of her head, keeping it in place against his warmth. 

"I thought.....I wondered......I mean......if I could go and see Mr Faversham......see if he could.....I dunno......" 

"I think that's a fucking capital idea.......whenever you are ready......just say the word. You want me ring him? Come with you?" 

"Will you? Please? I can't do this anymore Malcolm.......I need to.....I need to do something...... anything......." 

"Shhh! Hush now.......come on.......I'll run you a nice bath.......make us some dinner......then we'll talk about it, yeah?" 

"Thank you Malcolm......thank you.....for being you......what would I do without you? I love you so much!" 

oOo

Ridiculously early. 

A weak yellow sun just appearing over the tops of the houses. Painting the rooftops with a delicate rosy hue. 

Sharp frost outside on the grass. 

Malcolm sat in the kitchen, on a stool at the counter. Coffee at his elbow. Thumbing, yet again, through the album she'd made and given him for Christmas.

The best Christmas he'd ever had in his entire life. 

She looked so happy......so, for that matter, did he, relaxed, not taut and worried and wired. 

Would his life ever be uncomplicated?

Not painful in some way. 

He flipped the page. Reaching his hand to the side blindly for his cup. 

The sun was peeping into the side window now, casting a golden shadow on the wall. He smiled slightly to himself as he came to a selfie of the two of them.  
How self conscious he looked.....but he was at least smiling a proper smile, not the rictus one he sometimes gave. One that reached to his eyes, little crinkles there in the corners, Malcolm rubbed his forehead with his other hand, pinching the bridge of his nose and pushing his glasses up.  
Starting to sniff....fuck it all.....there he went again......he'd turned into such a fucking Jessie and no mistake.....hadn't cried so much since he was a wee lad.  
Seemed like the slightest thing set him off these days. 

Without warning, a pair of pale arms wrapped themselves around his throat. A little kiss on the side of his head. 

"Fuck! Sam....you made me jump! Didn't hear you come down." 

"Why are you up so early?" She enquired gently. 

"Fuck knows. Couldn't sleep any longer. Angela's article hits the press tomorrow morning...... there's going to be fireworks." 

He clasped both hands over her forearms, his thumbs caressing her skin, leaning back into her embrace. 

"Sam......lets fuck off for a couple of days to Suffolk......yeah?" 

"If you want....." 

"Really? You'll come?" 

"Yeah. It'll do me good. Fresh sea air, and somewhere out of the way where no one knows or cares who we are.....I'd like that." 

A couple of hours later they were ready to hit the road. 

Sam buckled herself into the passenger seat and rested her head back, closing her eyes. 

"You okay?" 

Malcolm touched her arm gently. 

"Bit panicky......lets go before I change my mind......" 

"You can lay on the back seat if you like.....shut your eyes......we'll be there in under an hour and a half......I won't flog it......I'll just pootle......" 

"No.....I'm damn well going to sit here. I'm not going to let this beat me.....I'm sick of myself Malcolm......I'm sick of being miserable and joyless and horrible company......sick to my fucking stomach...." 

"You could never be horrible company.......not to me......and being away might help your mood and your appetite.....and when we get back we'll go and see Faversham......we'll go together......and I'll fucking hold your hand, just like you held mine, and you'll be okay.....you will.....I know you will." 

Sam didn't reply, she just gave a small encouraging smile, and settled herself in for the journey. 

Within a relatively short time they were walking together along the shingle beach. 

The wind was biting and raw. Malcolm walked with his head down, collar turned up, face pinched with the cold.  
To Sam it felt bracing. Invigorating. The chill made her eyes water. She could taste the salt in the air. The sea crashed in relentlessly, slamming into the pebbles and showering them upwards with a satisfying whoosh!  
There were very few people mad enough to be walking on the shore that day, but Malcolm didn't give a fuck.  
Her arm was threaded tightly through his, keeping him close. Part of her felt that she wanted to run.....run and run, let the wind whip her hair and smart against her cheeks.  
But she hadn't the energy. Keeping upright was her focus. 

They walked a mile or so, before turning back. At least the breeze was now behind them. Buffeting their backs mercilessly. 

"Stop a moment Malc." Sam tugged his overcoat sleeve. 

"You alright? Fucking freezing isn't it?" His nose dripped. 

"It's wonderful." She breathed. Her eyes scanning the horizon, narrowed against the bitter blast. 

"I want to stand......just for a bit......." She sucked in lungfuls of air, before puffing them out slowly. Closing her lids, her head back slightly, face exposed. 

Malcolm waited. Motionless. Watching her. 

"Take your time." He said softly. "Take all the time you want." 

Finally, she let go a last sighing breath and they moved on. Heading back towards the old Hotel on the little seafront, where they'd stayed several times before. 

In the Lounge there was a roaring fire. Cozy tartan covered armchairs. The place was almost deserted.  
A waitress came, they ordered two hot chocolates. 

Sitting, close to the flames, their numb fingers cupping the glass mugs, thawing out. 

Sam's face was pink and rosy. She looked better than Malcolm had seen her for many weeks. Since Christmas in fact. 

"You hungry?" He asked, kindly. 

"I'm okay.....I'll wait till dinner......I think I might actually be able to eat something.....I mean properly eat something......oh Malc......I do so love it here......" 

"Me too. Lovely memories.....I'd return here time and time again......" 

"Malcolm.....let's finish our drinks and go upstairs......." 

Malcolm waggled his eyebrows at her hopefully. 

"I have a sudden urgent need to be buck naked, on my knees at your feet......." 

"Fucking fuck me.......!"


	10. The Kraken Awakes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Sam are holed up in Suffolk when Angela's story breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are basically the questions I want answered from that bloody Inquiry! 
> 
> The mock ups are what Angela might have sent to Malcolm for his approval before publishing.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

CHAPTER TEN.  
THE KRAKEN AWAKES. 

Malcolm opened his eyes on the new morning. 

Sam was draped across his chest, heavy, still slumbering deeply, his arm over her back, fingers playing on her soft skin. 

He lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The room was quaint and eclectic, as only ancient English former coaching inns could be. There wasn't a straight angle in the place.  
The floor sloped slightly, so did the ceiling. The window was an old fashioned sash casement which rattled slightly when the wind off the sea buffeted against it. 

Sometimes if you hit a certain floorboard, the wardrobe door would fly open. 

Sam had laughed when that happened, and it bought a lump to Malcolm's throat. There had been precious little of that from her of late. 

Blamed himself. 

The room was hot. An antiquated radiator churned out heat like a steam engine, condensation formed on the inside of the glass, but if he tried to turn it down, or off, the whole atmosphere of the room was transformed, very quickly, into Siberia. 

Breathing in and letting go a long sigh, he thought of the possible day ahead. 

It would be a banner headline.  
In The Mail.  
His face probably splashed across the front page. It would be on the TV News.  
Everywhere. 

But right at this moment, he could be in Outer Mongolia. Removed from it all. Wrapped around the woman he loved more than his own life. 

If only it was all over. 

All this stuff had put his careful plans on hold. 

How could he ask Sam to marry him now? 

The time wasn't right at all. No! He would have to wait. Let it all pass. Let Sam get back to her normal self.  
His Sam. 

But what if she never did? What if this change in her remained? 

Don't think like that Malcolm. It's a blip. You emerged blinking into the sunlight, coming through the darkest time. She would do the same. 

Yawning. Stretching. Stirring. 

A slight tap on the door. 

_"Room Service!"_

He'd ordered them breakfast. 

Scrambling for a dressing gown, he opened the door to admit a waiter with a wheeled trolley.  
Two steel domes covered piping hot plates on the top. The rich aroma of coffee. 

"Sam love.....breakfast is here." 

She woke and turned over, her hair in her eyes. Sitting up, rubbing the sleep away with the heel of her hand.

Malcolm decided that running the gauntlet of the other morning diners might best be avoided.  
He could see all it now.....a man glancing into his morning paper......seeing his picture there.....then raising his eyes and seeing the very same man sitting at an adjacent table. 

No! 

He'd ordered a paper himself. But he wasn't going to look at it yet. He was going to enjoy a lovely breakfast with Sam. A delicious hot shower.  
Maybe make love to her again, if she'd let him. 

The evening before had been absolute fucking bliss. Malcolm was thoroughly ashamed of how much he'd enjoyed it. 

It was something he'd been struggling with these last weeks. 

Her moods and harsh words he could take.  
Those barbs barely touched him. They were mere words and he knew she didn't really mean them.  
She'd lashed out at him on one occasion, but he stood there, took that too. 

"You can beat me to a pulp Sam, if it makes you feel better, but I'll never raise a hand to you, not ever." 

His words made her cry. 

Infinitely kind and patient he'd been with her. As loving and caring as he knew how to be. 

But when she rejected him physically, it crushed him. 

Pushing his comforting arm away, avoiding his kiss. Not wanting intercourse. Shunning his advances. 

It was horrible, made him feel desolate and alone. Shut out. 

Because he just loved her so much, and he loved loving her. He missed it. Simple as that.  
The closeness. The intimacy. The togetherness. 

He'd endured so long in his previous life without such a relationship, an existence of denial, guilt and abstinence, and when love was offered to him the way Sam did, it meant everything. 

She'd taught him so much about himself. 

Now he'd become accustomed to it, so that when it was taken away from him, it hurt. Deeply. 

Arms were quietly threaded around his middle, her tousled head resting against his back, as he stood in the bay window looking down onto the little promenade below.  
Lost in his thoughts......while the breakfast waited. 

"Penny for them..." she whispered. 

"Sorry love. Was away with the fucking fairies there!" 

"Is it raining?" She peered out. 

"No, it's sleet I think." 

A muffled dog walker, brave in the extreme, hurried by, bent against the blast. 

"Food's getting cold." She remarked, not relinquishing her hold. 

"Am I mental Sam? Doing this? Should I just say 'fuck it all' and piss off to Venezuela or somewhere?" 

"No Malcolm. Certainly not! You deserve to be vindicated. You'll never have a moments peace until you do..........now, come on......there's bacon and eggs here with your name on them!" 

oOo

 _ **"INQUIRY FIASCO!"**_

The headline screamed from the rooftops. 

Sub-headline was equally as hard hitting. 

_**"FOUR STAGES TO THE GREATEST FARCE OF OUR TIME!"** _

_"The omnishambles that was the Goolding Inquiry left more questions than it answered. Filled with glaring omissions, ludicrous testimonies, fudge and political point scoring._  
_It was, at worst, fundamentally biased, at best, deeply flawed._

_The Daily Mail is asking the question the public have a right to know...._

_'How did they get away with it?'_

_The lead up to this debacle was as follows...._

_1)Nicola Murray MP and leader of the opposition calls for a Public Inquiry into the death of Mr Douglas Tickel. Former nurse, then homeless protester, who is driven to suicide._

_2)Peter Mannion MP and Head of DoSAC calls for the scope of this Inquiry to be widened to include PFI procurement. A valiant (and largely ignored) attempt on his part to deflect attention from his own department's woeful mishandling of the said Mr Tickel and to engage in a political vendetta against the Opposition, or, more specifically the Leader herself and her husband, between whom, The Mail understands, there is a barely disguised contempt._

_3)The Prime Minister takes over and asks that the culture of 'Leaking' be also examined. Since it becomes clear that the unfortunate Mr Tickel had a history of mental health issues which somehow found their way into the Press._

_4)The actual Inquiry is convened headed by Tory Peer Lord Goolding."_

" _ **YOU HAD ONE JOB......."**_

_"When convened Lord Goolding specifically states that "the purpose of this Inquiry is to look into the death of Mr Douglas Tickel, and the culture and practice of the leaking of sensitive information between ALL political parties and the Public Media."_

_It is the final decision as to what the Inquiry will investigate, coming directly from The PM in Downing Street._

_At no time do we discover when the details of Medical Records of Mr Tickel become public._  
_**This is a question yet to be either asked or answered.**_

 _The Inquiry is just that......AN INQUIRY._

_It does not have the power to charge anyone, it is not a trial._

_Which begs a second question....._

" _ **.....HOW DID THE GOOLDING INQUIRY BECOME THE TRIAL OF MR MALCOLM TUCKER?"**_

_"In the subsequent light of the discovery of Mr Tucker SEEMINGLY having numbers relating to the former nurse in his possession, suddenly the focus is entirely on him....."_

" _ **.......TO THE EXCLUSION OF ANY OTHER POTENTIALLY GUILTY PARTIES!"**_

" _If, at any time, Lord Goolding and his colleagues felt they'd uncovered something illegal and potentially damaging it is their solemn duty, as a public serving body, to hand that information over to the Police or relevant authorities for investigation....."_

_**".......NOT PURSUE IT THEMSELVES!"** _

_"Is Lord Goolding a QC? A prosecuting council?_

_No!_

_He flagrantly ignores and goes beyond his remit by ruthlessly cross examining Mr Tucker over the numbers, particularly once he and the other committee members, (which, bizarrely, included Baroness Sureka amongst their number, who was herself recently a victim of a damaging leak and was therefore, surely, compromised) were convinced he could only have acquired them by breaking the law._

_And yet these facts don't seem to concern the Head of the Inquiry at all!_  
_Instead he doggedly pursues a line of questioning, completely dismissing all other witnesses with nothing more than a cautionary wag of the head._

_Judge and jury!_

_Forgetting the poor unfortunate man whose tragic death he was commissioned to investigate._

_It is in the Public Interest and the interest of Mr Tickel's grieving relatives, that these questions do not go unanswered._  
_Justice has not been served."_

" **The Daily Mail wants to know....."**

" _ **WHEN WILL THE REAL TRUTH BE DISCOVERED?"**_

_"Mr Malcolm Tucker, former Director of Communications, for both the previous Government and, most recently, the Opposition, gained a great deal of support two years ago when details of his private life emerged._  
_His quiet dignity when dealing with the horrific revelations of the child abuse he'd suffered as a young boy, at the hands of his local parish priest, in suburban Glasgow, won him both enormous respect and admiration from the media and general public alike........."_

Malcolm's eyes flickered over the article, he then reread it.  
Read it once again, before passing the crumpled newspaper to Sam for her perusal. 

oOo

 

It was all over Twitter. On the radio. Every TV channel carried the story in their news bulletins.....

 _"An article has appeared in today's Daily Mail lambasting the Goolding Inquiry, questioning its validity and raising grave concerns over the prejudice shown._  
_Chief amongst its 'victims' was Malcolm Tucker, former Communications Officer. Who has since been forced to resign._

 _Whilst not actually saying so, it is clear that the paper considers the Inquiry to be at worst, corrupt, and at least, fundamentally biased._  
_Which in turn, begs the question of blatant favouritism and partiality, on the part of the Government, since Mr Tucker was the sole casualty resulting from the proceedings, and actually had very little power or influence at all at the time._  
_An alleged coverup has been suggested from various quarters._

 _We have, as yet, no statement from Peter Mannion, the MP in charge of the Government department DoSAC, whose grave incompetence in the Tickel affair was well documented, he is said to not be at home in his Surrey constituency._  
_Nor have we heard from Mr Tucker, who has not been seen in public since Thursday, is not currently at his London address, and is therefore unavailable for interview._

_There has been widespread condemnation too, of the silence from Downing Street, and Mr Tickel's family are said to be seeking legal advise, calling for a second inquiry, so that all aspects of the events leading to their relative's death can be thoroughly, and fairly, examined......."_

"It's just the beginning." Malcolm sighed. "It could drag on for months." 

" Well, at least it's out there now.....someone has raised a head above the parapet." Sam folded the newspaper and placed it on the table in front of her. 

"Christ! Angela is a brave woman. This could finish her for good if it goes tits up." 

"She's aware of that and she has faith in you, she's your staunch friend...." 

"Yeah. She sure is." 

"Lets go out for a walk Malc. The clouds have parted, the sun is out. It's cold but it's not unpleasant. The fresh air will do me good, and I don't want to sit in the Hotel all day." 

"Okay....I'll get my coat and boots." 

Within fifteen minutes they were crunching across the shingle again. Arm in arm. 

"You'll be tied up over the next few weeks, more and more will come out.....they'll want you on Paxman....or Newsnight.....or something.....I'll go to see Faversham on my own...." 

Malcolm stopped dead and turned to look at her, his brows fearsome to behold. 

"Oh no you fucking won't! I don't care if the entire Government is about to fall, if there is fire, flood, famine or pestilence.....you come first Sam. Nothing is more important to me. Not even this fucking case. We go together. I want to be there for you. Anything else is neither here nor there. Okay?" 

"Okay Malc......" she drew his arm closer to hers at the elbow. "I love you." 

"And I fucking love you......and no matter what happens, I'm right here by your side."


	11. The Circus is Coming to Town.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day the big story breaks in the press. 
> 
> Malcolm and Sam are safely ensconced in Suffolk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later the same day, continuing directly from the last chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.  
THE CIRCUS IS COMING TO TOWN. 

By evening Peter Mannion had been filmed on the steps of his home, making a brief statement standing shoulder to shoulder with a solicitor. 

_"Yes, I have seen the article in The Mail. And I have nothing to say at the present time. A statement will be released shortly once I've taken proper legal advice. I will, of course, be exonerated and cleared of all the spurious accusations of which the article accuses me. I thought the Inquiry was fair and above board, and that the guilty party received an appropriate hearing. That's all I have to say for now."_

Malcolm switched off the television with a scoff. 

"Fucking wanker!" He growled. 

"Nothing from the PM yet then?" Sam asked, coming into the bedroom, towelling her hair. 

"Not a sausage!" He replied. "Are we going down to dinner in the restaurant....or do you want to stay up here?" 

"We're going downstairs. I'm going to have a lovely meal with my man." She responded emphatically. 

"That's my girl!" His kissed the top of her damp head, pulling her close, his hand straying down to clasp her bare buttocks. 

"Hey!" She squeaked, wriggling free. "Not now! I've just showered! And I'm hungry......and that, for me, is a very good thing indeed!" 

He released her apologetically, stepping back, and was about to speak when his mobile drilled. 

"Hello?" 

"Hi Malc! It's me, Jamie." 

"Hiya! Everything alright?" 

"Well, yes, but you'll be glad you are where you are! I assume they haven't tracked you down yet?" 

"Apparently not. I had a quiet word with the staff, slipped them a few quid.....and as yet none of the other guests seem aware. Not that the place is buzzing by any means." 

"Good.....stay where you are Malcolm. Keep Sam out of the way.....they came and knocked on my door this morning....."

"Fuck! Really?" 

"Yeah.....apparently you are quite a lucrative friend to have!" 

"Am I?" 

"Yep.....offered me 40 grand to spill the beans on you..... _"My Life with Tucker"......."_

"For fucks sake! £40,000 eh....? You should have stuck out for a round 50k!" 

oOo

Dinner was a quiet affair, Malcolm and Sam were seated in a corner out of the way, Malcolm with his back to the room.

He found himself watching Sam carefully.

She seemed more relaxed, didn't she? 

Fervently he hoped so. 

The journey had been an ordeal for her, of that he was certain. 

Although he was unaware of quite how much. 

Unaware that she'd mentally broken the journey into sections in her mind, just so she could cope.........London to the Suburbs, suburbs to the A12 at Chelmsford, Chelmsford to Colchester, Colchester to Ipswich, Ipswich to the little seaside town.  
She ticked them off in her head as each milestone passed. Telling herself that they were nearly there.  
Every time Malcolm overtook a lorry she closed her eyes, willing the car to be safely passed it, at one point the stream of traffic ground to a halt, then crawled forwards, and she thought she'd pass out.....but somehow she managed, and reaching their destination was a huge relief.  
Why was she like this? 

She felt so miserable, sick and tired of being sick and tired. 

Walking on the beach, she'd let go. Calmed. 

Been soothed by the sea and the wind and the bitter cold, that and just being out of the way of prying eyes, of scorn, derision and vitriol, with the person she most wanted to be with. 

Malcolm. 

He could see that her eyes were brighter. Not dull and lifeless as they had been recently.  
She was eating too. 

Tucking into her dinner with gusto. 

Malcolm calculated she'd probably lost about ten pounds. Not quite a stone, but pretty damn close.  
It showed. Too thin. Her colour and vitality faded. Two dark circles beneath her eyes. 

It briefly concerned him that she might have been making herself sick, but it appeared not, she just simply had no appetite.  
Now she placed her knife and fork neatly together on the empty plate and sat back with a sigh.

"Good?" He enquired. 

"Yeah. Delicious." Her disarming smile made his throat catch. "I do feel better Malcom.....I do.....I know you're worried. I can tell. No matter how hard you try to remain gung-ho!"

"Course I'm fucking worried. I'm not gonna hide it Sam. I don't have any secrets from you....you know that. I just want it to be okay......you......to be okay.......and I can't stop blaming myself....." 

She reached across the table and took his hand. 

"Don't Malc! It is what it is. Part of me is more scared of what's still to come. The first fallout was bad.....but what we have yet to endure will be worse. That's why I need to see Faversham. I know I need it. A crutch if you like. When all this breaks, it's going to be hell, and you will, necessarily, be preoccupied with it. So.....I need a bit of extra support and I'm hoping he'll be able to give me that. If I'm honest I think this has been a long, long time coming.....I think it goes right back to when I lost my parents. There are things I never ever properly dealt with......and I have to address that......"

Malcolm wound his fingers around hers, as the waiter came to clear their plates. 

"Would you like dessert sir?" 

Sam shook her head imperceptibly. 

"No thanks, just two coffees I think. Thank you." 

The waiter seemed to hesitate a moment.....then bent slightly......speaking low.

"Mr Tucker sir.....the manager told us.....I mean.....um....not to say anything, but......"

He stopped, embarrassed.

"But what?" Malcolm was slightly defensive. 

"None of the staff here would have talked to the press, or contacted them to tell them you were here.....so the money was nice but not necessary.......but that's not what I wanted to say.....what I wanted to say was......I've served you here in this hotel several times in the past , and I don't believe all that stuff they wrote about you.....I don't care particularly whether it's true or not, I just go by what I see.....and the way the Mirror painted you......that's not what I see......so, I er.......just wanted to tell you that.....sorry.....sir.....Mr Tucker.......two coffees wasn't it?" 

"I appreciate it." Malcolm held out his hand to shake. "Ian isn't it?" 

Ian raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

"Yes. But how.....?" 

"Because I remember, make mental notes.....it's my business to remember, it was my job....and, in spite of some opinion, I was quite good at it......so, thank you......Ian......I, we....." He glanced across at Sam. "Are grateful. A lot of shit is gonna be hitting the fan soon.....we need every friend we can get!" 

"I'll fetch you those coffees......" The man hurried away. 

Sam's eyes were glistening. 

"That was sweet." She said quietly. 

oOo

The ten o clock News played quietly in their room. The volume on low. 

Malcolm reclined on top of the bed, feet crossed at the ankle, leaning against the headboard. 

A glass of Scotch in his hand by way of a nightcap. 

Sam was curled beside him, under the covers, asleep. 

_"This evening we have received a statement from Downing Street in response to the article in today's Mail. The furore this piece has generated has been widespread. So far only a brief and cursory statement from the government minister in charge of DoSAC, Mr Peter Mannion has been heard._  
_Doubts are being raised over the integrity of both the minister himself and the subsequent Inquiry into the death of Mr Douglas Tickel, a former nurse, who committed suicide some months ago, and which led to the resignation of the Director of Communications for the Opposition, Mr Malcolm Tucker._  
_The Prime Minister's press secretary released the statement an hour ago, having remained resolutely silent all day.  
Let's go over to our Chief Political Correspondent Laura Kuenssberg, who is outside Number Ten......"_

_"Good evening, Fiona, the statement, released to the press some few moments ago, is brief and to the point....._

_'Whilst I appreciate the concern from some quarters over the handling of the Goolding Inquiry, and I, of course, sympathise genuinely with the Tickel family, who are grieving at this time, I cannot see that there is anything to gain from a re-examination._  
_The Inquiry was fair and above board, and came to the correct conclusions._  
_It is clear to me that Mr Tucker was complicit in both the leaking of sensitive medical information, and it's illegal acquiring._  
_The matter is now in the hands of the appropriate authority, pending a possible legal proceedings by the Crown Prosecution Service, and it is now for them to decide whether there is a criminal charge to answer in a Court of Law._  
_Until such time as they reach their decision, I feel it is best to allow due process to take place. I shall, therefore not be making further statements on this case, until I hear from the CPS._  
_That is all I have to say at this time. Thank you......'_

 _"The statement has caused widespread condemnation of the Government as a whole and Mannion as an individual. Many, even in his own party are calling for him to step down._

_The Tickel family are, meanwhile, holding a candlelight vigil outside Parliament, which has attracted a large crowd of vocal supporters._  
_I'd say, Fiona, that this has left a nasty taste in the mouth of the present administration and that it's not going away any time soon....."_

Malcolm reached for the remote. Sipped his drink, sucking it through his teeth and letting the warmth penetrate and linger on his tongue. 

"Oh Miss Kuenssberg!" He said to himself under his breath. "It's coming. The Four Horsemen of the fucking Apocalypse........The Press, The Public, The Law, and Malcolm Fucking Tucker!"


	12. Revelations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm and Sam return to London. 
> 
> It isn't long before the press are camped outside again. 
> 
> Angela Heaney has some news for Malcolm.
> 
>  
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I have looked very closely at the stills from these Inquiry episodes. Ive also taken multiple screen shots.  
> The blown up picture shown at the Inquiry is not the configuration of what Malcolm is holding in the pictures from Armistice Day. At no point in the film is Malcolm holding the papers as they are shown in the closeup. The brown file is not sticking up above the others. Even given that the close up has been turned so that you can see the writing. You can also zoom in and see the pages are blank.  
> I leave you to draw your own conclusions!!

CHAPTER TWELVE.  
REVELATIONS.

 

Samantha Cassidy drew the curtains and wandered round switching on the lamps, it occurred to her that someone would notice they were back, the lights on, the house having been in darkness for a few days, but she didn't dwell on it. There was no point. Let them come!  
Even she had not yet reached the point of skulking in a darkened room with the blinds permanently closed. 

Malcolm had dropped her off. Dumping their bags inside. 

Their home was warm. Welcoming.  
Sam loved Malcolm's house......her house now.  
With its bay windows, it's large airy living room an extension with ceiling skylights. It had nooks and crannies and cupboards everywhere, a proper old fashioned pantry. She enjoyed the little garden at the back too. 

When she'd first visited, she'd expected 'bachelor pad', but was pleasantly surprised.  
Malcolm liked 'comfortable'. Cushions and soft furnishings, a bit of clutter here and there. Shelves of his books and DVD's, 'bits and bobs' variously displayed. The place was homely. Lived in......and yet before she moved in, he was hardly ever there. 

Putting the kettle on, she began to unpack the bags of groceries they'd stopped off to buy at the little supermarket, in the seaside town where they'd been holed up.  
They'd requested an extra night, and since their room was available, they'd stayed on.

Sam stood at the counter, mug in hand, lost in thought. 

Those final few hours. It had been wonderful. She'd felt free, whole again, and even if the feeling turned out to be temporary, it was still worth its weight in gold.  
The entire morning spent in bed. With the ' _Do Not Disturb'_ sign on the door.  
Making love.

Moving together as one. Stroking. Teasing.  
Malcolm had been especially tender, even more attentive to her needs than usual, if that was possible.  
In control.  
She loved the way he turned her on, how he caressed her, seeming to know just what to do to enflame her desire.  
Spreading her legs wide for him, inviting his touch.  
The thrill of the feel of his tongue against her, so sensitive. Bringing her so close, until she begged for more, then allowing her tip over.  
Gasping, clutching at him.  
Wanting him.  
She wasn't sure how he'd managed to hold off himself, but he did, giving her another orgasm before he finally came. Groaning almost as if in pain.  
Weeping when he finished.  
His head buried into the crook of her neck, his ragged breath against her skin, whilst she held him tight.  
Whispered words of his love for her.  
Little tender kisses. Tasting herself on his lips. Lying, still thrust deep inside her.  
Not wanting to let him go, not ever......complete feeling of safety. 

 

His key in the front door, his step in the hallway, bought her back down to earth with a jolt. 

"I'm back!" He called. 

Setting down her mug she went to greet him as he placed the pet carrier on the floor and released the door catch. 

"Here we are! Home again Ramsey!" He cried. "Out you come boy!" 

The tabby frowned at him angrily......if it is possible for a cat to make such an expression!  
Turning away, tail in the air, stalking off into the kitchen, where he proceeded to circle all the furniture, sniffing warily.  
Seemingly deciding that all was well, he sat down, lifting a perfunctory leg in the air, his back to both of them, before commencing a thorough and intimate wash. 

"Well! Looks like we are both in the dog house!" Malcolm remarked. "How dare we send him to the Cattery! The very idea!" 

"He'll get over it!" Sam smiled. "Leave him to it. Let him find his feet again. I've made some tea....come and grab a cup." 

She dropped a kiss on his nose, her arms around his neck. 

"How long have we got do you reckon?" She asked softly. 

Malcolm glanced at his watch. 

"I'd give it an hour? Not much more." He replied. 

oOo

In the end, it was less than an hour.  
Before the first van pulled up outside the house, depositing a film crew on the kerb. 

Shortly to be followed by more. 

The doorbell was rung insistently, loud knocking, someone shouted through the letterbox. 

"Malcolm! We know you're there. Give us a statement! Come on mate.....you know how this works!" 

Malcolm sat on the sofa, Ramsey, clearly having decided to forgive him, curled on his lap. He stroked the furry head thoughtfully, Donald Pleasance fashion.  
Brooding. 

Eventually he rose, went over to the window and peered out.  
A knot of two dozen or more media waited there. Some with hands in pockets or with a cigarette dangling from one corner of their mouths. Others chatting together, or jotting down notes. 

Sam came behind him, and put her arms around his tummy. 

"What are you going to do?" She enquired. 

"I'll have to go out there. Talk to them." He replied calmly, turning himself in her embrace and placing little smooches against her mouth. 

She gave him a little smile. 

"What will you say?" 

Malcolm pulled her into him and held her close. 

"I'll do what I do best. Wing it. I've done it a thousand times. Those fuckers out there are my world. I was one of them once. I can't moan now when it's me they're baying for. That's not how it works. You can't be a press pack harasser one minute, then complain when you are the harassee!!  
They want their pound of flesh. I would too if I were out there, instead of in here. The story is everything. The scoop. The first to the headline......I know that only too well......you'd sell your granny for an exclusive......." 

Giving her one final kiss, he turned away. 

"I'll fetch my jacket." 

oOO

Sam watched in mute admiration as he stepped outside, walking purposefully down the front path. Putting up his hands to quell the onrush. 

"Calm the fuck down okay?" 

Questions were fired at him from all sides, a camera shoved into his face. 

"Get that back a bit you fucking moon cup.....I can't speak to you with a lens inches from my mouth, have some decorum for Christ's sake......."

"Malcolm! What do you have to say about the Mail article?" 

"Give us your thoughts on the Inquiry.....were you set up? Was it corrupt?" 

Malcolm held up his hands again. 

"This will be brief, I've nothing prepared......so for the time being it'll have to suffice.  
As you know, I have a legal team working on my behalf, and have no doubt that when the CPS call for a trial, that I will be found innocent of all charges.  
The newspaper article asks some very pertinent questions which I, as well as you media and the public, would very much like answered. I didn't feel that the death of Mr Tickel was properly investigated by the Inquiry, I think they had other, more important agendas......."

"What do you mean by that?"

Malcolm ignored the question, pulling a _'what do you think?_ ' face, and continued unperturbed. 

".......the people I feel most sorry for are Mr Tickel's family, who have not received justice, and who's relative has been all but forgotten in the rush to engage in political mud flinging.  
The Government were so keen to deflect the focus from themselves that they lost sight of the real reason the Inquiry was called. But the general public are intelligent and informed, they will not allow this situation to continue unredressed.  
For what it is worth I will welcome the chance to be examined in a court of law, and hope that the truth behind the events leading to Mr Tickel's demise will finally be told.  
That's all I have to say for now. We must wait for the Crown Prosecution Service to name the day, I'm hoping it will be sooner rather than later, to end this nightmare that myself and my friends and family are also going through." 

A scramble of flash bulbs and jostling followed as Malcolm began to turn away, retreating to the house. 

"Malcolm! Malcolm! Do you think the Government are at fault?" 

"What about Mannion? What do you think of him?" 

He turned back. 

"I have nothing more to say. I would appreciate some privacy whilst we wait for the CPS to complete their investigations. I would ask you all to respect that......." 

"What do you have to say about the damning evidence against you?"

"Why are you suddenly the victim here?" 

"I have nothing more to say. Now get the fuck away from my hedge!" 

oOo

The way he controlled himself. Thinking on his feet. Making it up as he went along. Sam had seen him do this many times, but it never ceased to impress her. 

She shut the door behind him, and threw the bolt and chain across. 

They were effectively besieged, at least for now. 

Malcolm's mobile rang, as if on cue. 

"Hello?" 

"Well done darling! I saw you on BBC News 24 just now!" 

"Hiya Ange!" 

"Listen Malc.....I've been digging.......and you can't dig without disturbing dirt.....I've got something, and it's big......and I need to see you ASAP....."

"Well, I'm not fucking coming out....I'll only be followed, but you can come here. I'll let you in the back way. There's a path that runs along the back of the gardens. I'll let you in the wooden gate and you can come across the courtyard." 

"I'll be there in an hour!" 

oOo

Angela sat across from Malcolm and Sam, cups of steaming coffee in front of them. 

"So come on then.....what was so desperate that it couldn't wait another moment?" Malcolm blew on his brew and sipped. 

"You're not going to like this Malc......it's nuclear....." 

From a portfolio case she drew some files and a disc. Spreading them out on the kitchen counter. 

Amongst them, two photo blow-ups. 

"Look at these Malc......what do you see? It's the Remembrance morning, when you fiendishly set up Helen with her notes.....look at them closely....."

Malcolm looked. 

Sam peering over his shoulder. 

"Quiet Bat People.....I can see it plain as day......I didn't make any bones about it Ange.....I set her up, I admit it.....I never denied it at the Inquiry either......." 

"That isn't what I want you to look at.....look at yourself......this is the uncropped picture, the one where you stood to one side......."

"Yeah.....looking.............by the way, I didn't stand to one side so that my notes wouldn't be seen, I stood there to distance myself from the leak I myself was orchestrating, and because I didn't want to be papped in the company of Ollie, Helen and Nicola while I was making them look like the fucking idiots that they are in the National Press. Mea Culpa!" 

"Malcolm......are you not seeing what I'm seeing? This isn't the picture shown at the Inquiry, this is the one I tracked down to a freelance photographer, Jason Timmings, who sold it to The Mirror. It's taken from his negative." 

"The page is blank........" Sam whispered quietly. 

"EXACTLY!" Angela cried. "No Tickel numbers......no nothing in fact........"

"That's your copy of The Guardian, plus the files and wodge of bumph I gave you before you left for Whitehall, I remember exactly what was in them, and what wasn't.......I told you Malcolm.....I know everything that leaves my desk.......everything....." 

"Fuck me!" 

"Now I want you to look at these two close ups, they are stills I took from the BBC film footage. Take special note of the spine of the folders, their orientation in your hands and what the bundle contains." 

Malcolm reached for his glasses and scrutinised the screenshot closely. 

"Now.......!" Angela placed another in front of him, her excitement barely contained. 

".......THIS is the still that was shown at the Inquiry, a cropped picture, turned on its axis so you can read the writing.......what do you notice?" 

"THEY'RE NOT THE FUCKING SAME!" 

"It's fake Malcolm. The folder, newspaper and other bits and the way you are holding them are different, they bear a passing resemblance to what you were actually carrying that day.....but not _the way_ you were carrying them.....the day this picture was supposedly taken......." 

"But that's......that's.......despicable........" Sam breathed. 

"Somewhere between the original pictures leaving Jason's hands, being passed to the Daily Mirror, to them being printed, someone not only cropped the original, but another, entirely different shot, showing a different orientation of papers has been added and doctored. It's more than despicable Sam.....it's fucking reprehensible." 

"But who......?" Malcolm spluttered.

"Well, my guess would be Miller. Or rather someone working for him. You conveniently got Nicola out of the road, you did his dirty work for him, then he needed an excuse to get rid of you in turn. The picture would never have been taken if you hadn't personally summoned the hack pack to screw Nicola.....whom you should, technically, have been loyal to......and yes.....I know she screwed you over when Fleming reared his ugly head.....I'm not judging you.....but don't you see? Miller knew you'd orchestrated this.....he knew!  
You provided your enemies with just what they needed, a noose with which to let you hang yourself." 

"It could be Nicola....." Sam suggested. "To get her own back." 

"It could be, but my money would be on Miller.......after all, he failed to get hold of your dirt files....."

"We don't know that the burglary was down to him.......there's absolutely no evidence, I know Miller isn't squeaky clean, his closet is full of skeletons, I mean, he's out of the closet so to speak, although it's not common knowledge......but Jim Lawrence, my PI.....he's been investigating him quietly, and there's nothing illegal that he can find.....not a damn thing, the rent boy stuff is not nice maybe, and he'd rather it wasn't known, the boys are young but not underage, it's not a hanging offence......and Lawrence is a good bloke, if there was something I'm sure he'd winkle it out." 

"Let's watch the footage on this disc......" 

They trooped into Malcolm's study and sat down around the screen on his desk. 

Watching carefully as the four were seen walking down Whitehall, Mr Chop appearing to one side, then the film ending. 

"See what I mean?" Heaney sat back with satisfaction. 

"Clearly. The way I'm holding the papers isn't what's on that blow-up.....nothing like." 

"I know the Inquiry didn't ACTUALLY accuse you of leaking the medical info......they, specifically Baroness Sureka, were accusing you of being IMPLICATED in the leak of the files through hubris and carelessness with your personal notes. Notes you never even had! But once the photo was out there, you were guilty as far as they were concerned, and they didn't even bother delving further into anyone else." 

"This is fucking ludicrous Ange....mental! How will we find who did this?" 

"Well, to be honest it doesn't much matter WHO did it, it's the fact that someone did. It's clear. It's evidence. It'll be down to the Police to investigate, not us. I suggest you hand the stuff over to Greg and the team, and leave it with them. There are criminal charges to be filed here Malcolm, and hopefully it'll all come out in the wash!" 

"It fucking better had!" 

After Angela left, Malcolm was very quiet. 

Sam sat down on the sofa next to him. 

"You okay?" 

"I'll live. What about you?" He turned to look at her, his face soft and kindly, but hiding pain behind the eyes. 

"I've been better." She admitted. "Nervous about tomorrow." 

"Yeah. Fuck, I know how you feel.....I know exactly. I was almost sick the first time I saw the doc." 

He took her hand in his own and raised it to his lips, kissing it firmly. 

"I need this fucking nightmare to be over, Sam. And I've a feeling it's only just the tip of the iceberg so far."

She nodded and curled into his side. 

"Nothing could possibly be worse than what you've already faced and come to terms with. Somehow we'll get through it.......both of us.......as long as we have each other......" 

His fingers stroked her hair absentmindedly. Puffing out his cheeks. 

"It's been quite a day." He sighed.


	13. Healing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has her first session with Mr Faversham. 
> 
> Malcolm receives some correspondence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much as before, when I wrote Malcolm visiting the therapist in 'Shitstorm', it's not necessarily bang on, but I've tried to make it as realistic as possible. 
> 
> The letter Malcolm receives I've used a similar version of before in 'Chronicles of a Spin Doctor' it's a pretty standard letter. So I've used a version of it again.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.  
HEALING.

A sense of calm, and quiet. 

Muted lighting. 

Malcolm felt cocooned, as he'd come to feel over the many, many times he'd sat in this room over the weeks and months he'd visited. A safe place. Where nothing you said went beyond those walls. 

The memories were not so painful now. He could detach himself from them, look back and think of how far he'd come. Look to the future more easily. Imagine that future too. 

Her little hand clasped in his, palm sweaty, so many times he'd held those small fingers, which had represented for him, an anchor. Helping him to make sense of it all, on some occasions helping him to just get through the door. 

Different now. 

Now he was the linchpin. The rock to which she clung. 

Glancing sideways at her, this fucking wonderful woman who had come to mean so much to him. 

Her eyes were wide and fearful. 

The usual calm assurance gone. Indomitable spirit crushed. He constantly blamed himself. 

Always he'd been able to rely upon that serene countenance. To soothe him through the darkest moments, and there had been many. 

Days when he left that room barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Reeling. Emotionally wrung out. 

Now he was stronger. She could lean on him, count upon his support as he had once depended upon hers. 

Relinquishing his hand, clasping them together neatly in her lap. Picking nervously at a hang nail at the side of her thumb, before raising it to her mouth and biting at it. 

"Are you comfortable seated here?" The voice was measured, reassuring. 

She nodded, without speaking. 

"Mr Tucker, I'd like to suggest something, if you wouldn't mind?" 

Malcolm raised his eyebrows in mute question. 

"I'd like to speak with Miss Cassidy alone......now I'm not forcing anything, but I think it would be easier for her to be able to speak freely to me, and I think it would be better if you weren't here...."

Turning to Sam, seeing her stricken expression, he asked her quietly. 

"Sam?" 

"I'll be okay." Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

"By all means wait in the reception, help yourself to a coffee, Mr Tucker. As you know, I have no time frame, but this is a preliminary meeting so I'll not make it too long." 

Mr Faversham had been relieved when Malcolm Tucker had contacted him. The many times he'd witnessed Miss Samantha Cassidy and seen her reactions, heard her speak, he'd been sure. 

Sure that there were many things going on behind that composed mien, that had never been properly addressed. Hidden darkness of her own. It took a specialist to recognise it.  
Knew he could help her, given the opportunity. Not that he thought she'd ever need his assistance. She seemed to be managing admirably, but he had the impression that she balanced on a thin knife edge, and had done so for a very long time.  
Feeling, for whatever reason, that it was her duty to appear strong and collected. Put on a brave face.

In control of herself. 

As a professional counsellor he also realised that if ever there was a great upheaval in her life, she might well find herself unable to cope. 

This was it. 

After all she'd been through in her past, and more recently with Malcolm, that point had been finally been reached. 

The backlash from the Inquiry had broken her. 

She had a long way to fall, as she'd scrambled to a very high pinnacle indeed.

Ultimately he was sorry she'd had to resort to consulting him, but was glad that she had been able to do so.

"You've had a tough time." He commented gently, after the door closed behind Malcolm. 

Her eyes were still on that door, as if at any moment she would bolt for it. 

"He'll only be just outside, and we can call him back in, if you really can't face it without him, but I think you can Miss Cassidy, and I'd like you to start just by giving me a little idea of recent events, what has bought you to me, and why, is that acceptable?" 

Sam nodded again, and he passed her a cup of water, which she took with a trembling hand. 

"You know how this works. I'm not sitting you here with a spot lamp aimed at your head. Nor do I want to wrench your teeth out. I will not sit in judgement either. Being beside Mr Tucker all those weeks, listening to him, and the way I work, you know the score. I want you to feel at ease. Obviously I know a little about you and your relationship already, so that's a good place to start.....okay?" 

Her eyes brimmed as she looked up, recommencing twisting her hands in her lap as soon as she rested the water cup down. 

"Everything still solid between you both?" 

A tear rolled down her face and dropped from the edge of her jaw, the jaw which she was working hard to try and stay in control. 

"I love him....more than ever." She whispered, her lip quivering. 

"Good. You don't need to say more. For now. So what has bought you to me, how can I help you?" 

"I think I'm depressed." She launched immediately into a brief résumé of how terrible she'd been feeling and roughly when she felt it all began. "I feel I can't cope anymore on my own......" She tailed off lamely. 

"Then you're in the right place. Let's begin by just having a general chat about things, and end it there for today. We'll set up regular meetings, and go on from there. Don't worry Miss Cassidy.......we will thrash it out between us. Just as we did with Mr Tucker, we'll talk about it all, get to the bottom of it, and hopefully start to make you feel better. The fact that you're here means you recognise that you're struggling with things, and that's good.....admitting it is half the battle.  
Tell me.....do you still go to your Pilates class?"

"No." 

"Why is that?" 

"Because I don't want to go out. I was followed you see, papped, abused in the street. I started having panic attacks......"

"I see. Right. I'm going to ask Mr Tucker to pop back in.....is that okay?" 

More emphatic nodding. 

Malcolm's eyes searched her face as he reentered the room, as if he would somehow be able to see 'cured' written in big letters across her forehead. Even though he knew that couldn't possibly be the case. He reached for her hand, and she took it, trying to give him a brave smile. 

"Mr Tucker, I wonder if we can enlist your help......." 

"Course! Anything.....I'll do anything......" 

"I'd like Miss Cassidy to resume her Pilates class......."

Sam's eyes widened. 

".......not just because it is a reason to leave the house, in fact that is the least important to my way of thinking, it is the discipline, the relaxation, the camaraderie of the other members and the fact that it's something I know you thoroughly enjoy......." 

"But......I......." She stammered. 

"I'd like you to accompany her Mr Tucker.......not to do the class....." He added hastily, with a smile, as he saw Malcolm's eyebrows disappear into his hairline. ".........but to take her there, make sure she arrives safely and without incident, wait for her while she's inside, then take her home again afterwards.......can you do that?" 

"Of course I fucking can......." 

"Good. Then come and see me again next week, after you've been back to your class......I'd like to discuss your feelings with you.....how it felt to be back there, doing your exercises, controlling your breathing, holding your core muscles and focusing on your inner self, as you used to......can you do that?" 

"Sam?" Malcolm looked at her encouragingly. 

"I'll try." She responded with a noncommittal shrug. 

"Miss Cassidy.......listen to me......if you can't manage it......you can't......it's NOT a failure, it's an _'I can't do it this time, but next time maybe I can_ '......it is what it is.......small steps......always small steps to reap rewards......"

oOo

Sam's relief at reaching home was palpable. 

Malcolm left her slumped on the couch, eyes closed, exhausted beyond all reason. 

Within minutes he was back with a restorative cuppa. 

"There you go love......" He held it out to her, and she took it from him with a sigh. 

"It'll take time Sam.......just as it did with me......don't expect too much of yourself......" He held up a hand to stop her protesting. "........yes!......You do.......always the strong one, always there for everyone.....now it's your turn to be on the receiving end......let it happen......let people help you for a change......it's way way overdue darl.......way overdue!" 

A noise in the hallway made him look up sharply. 

"Sounds like the postman....." Sam sipped from her cup and gave a satisfied, "Ahhhh!" Sinking back into the cushions gratefully. 

Malcolm went to fetch the letters. 

A brown envelope. 

Official. 

Holding it in both hands, staring at it. 

"Anything exciting?" Sam's voice from the living room. 

"Er.....no, just bills......drink your tea, have a kip, I'll be at my desk........." 

Closing the door quietly behind him. 

Hands shaking. 

Still staring at the envelope. His fingers trembling as he slid the knife along the seal and drew out the contents, feeling blindly for his chair as he lowered himself down, reading the words it contained. 

_Dear Mr Tucker,_

_We are writing to inform you of the Crown Prosecution Service decision regarding your case._

_Each case the Prosecution receives from the Police is reviewed to make sure it is right to proceed with a prosecution. In more complex and serious cases such as this prosecutors are responsible for deciding whether a person should be charged with a criminal offence, and if so, what that offence should be._

_We have now received the appropriate representation from the police in charge of investigating the allegations levelled against you._

_Following these investigations, a prosecutor has read these representations and has decided that regarding;_

_**A)The charge of perjury** _

_(Pertaining to The Goolding Inquiry, which took place on the 12th July inst.)_

_The prosecutor has determined that there is insufficient evidence against the defendant and that it is not in the public interest to pursue this charge through the criminal courts._

_**B)The Charge of Misconduct in the Workplace.** _

_(Pertaining to the leaking of confidential patient medical records of Mr. D Tickel. Deceased.)_

_The prosecutor has determined that the existing evidence provided to the police following the Goolding Inquiry is not sufficient. There is, therefore no realistic prospect of conviction in this case and the public interest will not be served by pursuing it._

_We are therefore pleased to inform you that no criminal charges will be bought against you by the Crown Prosecution Service._  
_You are entitled to view the decision of the CPS and are advised to do so at the earliest opportunity._  
_All matters pertaining to this case will now be dropped........."_

There was more, but Malcolm stopped reading. 

So that was it. 

No trial. 

The thing on which he'd pinned all his hopes. 

Clearing his name. Vindication. Closure. 

Malcolm sank his head down onto his desk.


	14. Distraction.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam knows something's up! She's no fool. 
> 
> Malcolm and Jamie, Laura and Sam are having fittings........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows on directly from the last. 
> 
> Then we shift to a few days later. 
> 
> Gieves and Hawkes in Savile Row is a slice of Olde England......visit it if ever you get the chance!!
> 
> The beautiful picture of Peter that inspired this scene is by Paul Stuart for The Daily Telegraph, and although it isn't actually Malcolm it's one of my favourites of all time. 
> 
> The wedding dress is from 'The House of Mooshki' who made my daughter's wedding dress.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.  
DISTRACTION. 

Sam yawned and stirred. Ramsey had snuck in next to her on the couch and was purring loudly. 

Staring at the clock she realised she'd been asleep for two hours. Dead to the world. 

Rising and stretching she went in search of Malcolm. 

He was in the kitchen, a striped chef's apron tied around his middle. 

Sleeves rolled up, shredding cabbage. 

Hearing her footsteps behind him, he glanced over his left shoulder. Then turned away. 

Trying to hide his face......

The eyes were red rimmed, tired looking. Mouth and jaw set firmly. Brows furrowed. 

"Hi love......!" His brightness was false. 

"........dinner's on and I've run you a bath......was just coming to see if you were awake when I finished clearing up." 

"Malcolm? What's wrong?" She moved closer, peering round him, as he turned his head to the side away from her eagle eye.

"Nothing! As I say......I've done dinner, chicken.....okay? And the water's.........." 

"Malcolm?" She eyed him suspiciously. 

"I'm fine!" The false levity did not wash with Sam. Not for one second. 

Taking hold of both his arms just below the shoulders she turned him towards her firmly, almost roughly. 

"Malcolm Tucker, don't you DARE lie to me!" 

Her voice was sharp and fierce. 

He tried to move free of her grip, but she held on tight to two fistfuls of his jumper. 

" _Malcolm!!?_ " A warning tone, accompanied by a Samantha Cassidy death stare. "Tell me what's wrong this _instant_! What's happened? And woe betide you if you tell fibs to me......" 

With a resigned sigh and a hangdog expression of contrition, he drew the brown envelope slowly from his pocket, handing it over like a whipped schoolboy caught with a naughty picture. 

oOo

Malcolm eyed himself critically in the full length mirror. 

Turning first to one side then the other, then as far round as he could, whilst still being able to see himself. 

Buttoning up his crisp shirt over his skinny chest, struggling with the neck. The fold back cuffs, flapping unfastened over his hands.  


At his feet knelt the calm, efficient salesman, a tape measure slung around his neck, tailor's chalk in hand, prodding and poking at his unfinished trousers.  
Tacking stitches still in place. 

"You seem to have lost weight since your last fitting Mr Tucker, Sir!" He remarked, bunching a little material between his fingers, before marking, then pinning it expertly, just at Malcolm's butt. 

"You just want an excuse to fondle my arse!" Malcolm retorted good naturedly. 

"Well there's always that!" The man replied with a smile. "It's a thing of beauty!" 

"So my girlfriend often tells me!" He saw a puzzled frown pass over the face at his knee. 

"But......?" 

"Wait? You thought I was marrying _him_!?" He cocked a thumb at Jamie, who emerged from the changing cubicle similarly attired, but sporting a part made jacket of ticking material. 

"Well.....yes......"

Malcolm laughed heartily. 

"Ye hear that Jamie boy? He thinks we're the groom and......the groom......"

"Jesus!" Jamie chuckled amiably. "Well, I would marry you Malcolm pet, but I think Laura might be a bit disappointed!" 

A blushing and slightly embarrassed tailor moved aside.

The two were ensconced in Gieves and Hawkes. Number One Savile Row. 

Upstairs in the bespoke department. Surrounded by the iron railings and pillars on the mezzanine. 

On the ground floor below them, all wooden floors, comfy armchairs and pieces of tasteful sculpture, and, best of all, neat racks of beautiful clothes. 

Malcolm had a soft spot for tailoring. Especially suits.  
Since he'd been a little more flush, his two piece had metamorphosed from _'Man at C &A_' to ' _Jaeger'_ then moving onwards and upwards to Armani and the like, now he had them tailor made.  
The fit was so perfect, the cut so good, he'd never go back if he could help it. 

Both friends stood side by side. 

Admiring themselves. 

Malcolm frowned quizzically at his own reflection. 

"Yep.....you still got it.....old man!" Jamie smiled. 

"Shut the fuck up!" He turned himself again, pivoting on one knee.

"I look like fucking custard cancer." He observed. "Again!.......and he's right, I've lost a few pounds......fuck knows why.....I've been eating......" 

"It's the fucking stress mate.......you were never that good at handling it......do you know what you're going to do yet?" The fitter eased Jamie out of the jacket carefully. 

"Don't want to fucking talk about it......." 

"You should do what Angela suggested.......sue the fuckers......at least then you'll get some satisfaction." 

"I would......in a heartbeat.......but......" He began to unbutton the shirt. 

"But what?" 

"It'll mean I'm all over the fucking front pages again......and I'm worried about Sam......what effect that'll have on her......." Malcolm puffed out his cheeks. 

"How's she doing?" 

"Ok. I guess. She's seeing Faversham twice a week, he's helping.......she's certainly brighter, at least she's not crying all the time.......fucking breaks my heart Jamie, I can't bear it.....seeing her like that......especially knowing it's mainly down to me......or rather, being with me. All this has mucked up my plans good and proper. I feel like everything is in a ghastly limbo, on hold.....you know?" 

"What plans?" 

"You know......plans.......just plans....." He hedged. 

Malcolm turned and reached for his jeans, as the salesman began to unfasten the waistband of his wedding suit trousers. 

"I can manage thanks......" He batted the hands away, with a wicked grin. "Go see to him.....he's the one who needs help in the trouser department!" 

Jamie scoffed a retort. 

"Fuck off you cunt." He shot back at Malcolm viciously. 

The tailor smiled at the banter between the two old comrades. 

"Seriously though Malc.......what does Greg say?" 

"That I could take the bastards to the fucking cleaners. They had no business printing that picture, whether they knew it was doctored or they doctored it themselves.....if they didn't know then they should have checked. It's defamation......the article was so fucking libellous that they might as well have printed a picture of a noose along with it....." 

"Then fucking do it Malcolm. It's time people began to learn the truth." 

Tucking in his shirt, Malcolm zipped up his fly and fastened his belt, before sliding his feet into his shoes. 

"It might come out yet......Jim Lawrence has switched his attention from that ballsack Miller and onto Mannion........and then there's the Tickel family.......they've been making a heck of a lot of noise since the CPS said there was to be no trial. They're lobbying their MP......to call for a second Inquiry." 

"Fuck me!" 

"You ready? Come on you ponce.....we promised your wife-to-be we'd call in to the caterers.......sort out the table settings......" 

"I'm done. Let's awa......." 

oOo

Sam watched dreamily as Laura was fastened into her dress. 

It had taken her a while to choose 'The One'.

She was adamant she didn't want to look like a meringue. Nor yet a fairy or something out of Disney. 

But when she'd emerged wearing this one, they both knew. 

Perfect. 

Antique lace on the bodice....over ivory satin. A simple sleeveless column gown, with back detail of a row of tiny covered buttons and a sash bow at the waist. It had a detachable tulle skirt, which could be worn for the ceremony, then removed later for more freedom of movement. 

Everything about it was just right. 

Laura had a lovely figure, which the gown showed off to a T. As she was fairly tall at 5'7" the column style suited her best.  
On the shoulder straps was a little stitch detail, and she could wear her mother's locket over the high neckline where it would be set off beautifully by the ivory material. 

When the curtain was pulled back and she was revealed Sam burst into tears. 

"Oh Laura! It's breathtaking!" 

Now they were back for first fitting after alterations. There were some subtle changes Laura wanted made to the design, to make it more personal to her. The armholes needed to be cut away very slightly so they didn't chafe her skin, and she wanted to modify the bottom of the dress to have a slight train, so that it spread out behind her when she walked. 

Sam put her arms around her friend and hugged her tight. 

"Wait till Jamie sees you on the Big Day!" Her eyes were glistening. 

"You've been so good through all this." Laura whispered. "I don't know how you've managed it......and I want you to know that I appreciate the huge effort you've made, in spite of everything that's been going on." 

"Laura......honestly......it's helped to have a focus......something that's not that fucking awful Inquiry. It's taken my mind off things a bit. And anyway......I want to do it......"

"Well, it's wonderful......you're wonderful.......and I love you to bits." Now it was her turn to well up, as she turned back towards the mirror and held her arms out to the sides. 

Afterwards, it was Sam's turn to try on her dress. 

A champagne colour, with a straight, slightly floaty skirt, the top in the same style and neck as Laura's but with beading carefully appliquéd onto it.  
The sales lady clipped her hair up and she swirled herself round a couple of times, testing the feel. 

"I feel like a million dollars!" She said quietly. 

"You look it too darling!" Laura responded warmly. "When Malcolm sees you......he'll drop down dead!" 

"I hope not! Oh.....Laura......I know I'm running ahead of myself......and I know I'm being stupid.....but I can't help it.......after the conversation we had before Christmas.....I......well, I thought......"

"You thought he'd ask you........?" Laura finished her sentence sagely. 

"Well......yeah......." Sam's shoulders sagged. 

Laura turned her friend around to face her, holding both her hands. 

"Listen to me Sam.......Malcolm loves you.......you know it, I know it.....we all know it. But he wants the perfect moment.......Jamie and I were discussing this the other day......he won't want to ask you until after our wedding, because he'll think it's overshadowing his best friend.....think about it! And he certainly doesn't want to be planning a wedding with all this shit going on in the newspapers......he would want the time to be just right.....to be perfect......he'll ask you....never fear!" 

"I was worried.......that he wasn't ready......that I was somehow forcing his hand by telling him how I felt.......you know?" Laura smiled at the despondent little face. 

"Bullshit! Of course he's ready! .........and you would NEVER be able to make him do something he didn't want to......ever! He's far too stubborn for that!" 

"Oh I DO hope so, Laura......I really do." She sniffled slightly. "I think because I've been feeling so shite it's made me more insecure, and it's what I want more than anything. I know it's silly, and that having a ring on my finger doesn't really change anything, but it's a belonging thing......you know......I just want to be HIS.......it's pathetic.....tell me I'm being pathetic.....?" 

Laura held her friend in a crushing hug. 

"Oh, my darling! It isn't pathetic at all. Christ on a bike! I know this wedding lark isn't for everyone.....and I know you can make a commitment just as well without it! I'm well aware it's just a daft piece of paper and a bit of jewellery......but for some people.....me included......it means everything. It's much more than just a marriage. So much more. It's a bond. A partnership. I don't care how fucking old fashioned or 'not cool' it is.....I don't give a flying fuck.....it's what Jamie wants.....it's what I want......and it's what Malcolm wants too, even though he was badly hurt before. Jamie is no different there, but he still went for it, asked me........you'll get your turn......don't you worry on that score!" 

"Thanks Laura.....what would I do without you?" 

By the time the two women left the Soho bridal store it was lunchtime. 

"Let's pop into Creviche.......grab some lunch......" Laura suggested. 

Sam hesitated. Her friend took her hand gently. 

"It's okay. There's no one around Sam......no pap......nobody.......and no one is taking a blind bit of notice of us.....let's grab a quiet table and enjoy a glass of prosecco......yeah?"

"Okay!" She reached her decision with a tiny smile. "Bring it the fuck on!"


	15. Vengeance is Mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm sues The Mirror. 
> 
> All hell breaks lose. 
> 
> He appears on Newsnight. To be interviewed by the feared Jeremy Paxman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader, I've italicised the conversation between Paxman and Malcolm so as not to repeat 'he said' a dozen times, I've written the conversation straight out. Read it that they take it in turns to speak.  
> I'm so proud of Malcolm, because he answers so truthfully and eloquently.....fuck you Paxman!  
> I hope I've managed to get across Malcolm's care and concern for the main thing that's most important here.....Mr Tickel.  
> Yes, he has other agendas but Malcolm in the show is always defending the common man....or woman. Always.  
>  
> 
> Again, the mock up is what Angela would have sent to Malcolm for approval. 
> 
>  

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.  
VENGEANCE IS MINE. 

**"TUCKER SUES MIRROR!" **_The Telegraph_.****

" **MALCOLM TUCKER FIGHTS BACK!** " _The Daily Express._

**"MIRROR IN HOT WATER OVER TUCKER PIC.** " _The Sun._

 **"WAS FORMER SPIN DOCTOR SET UP?** " _The Guardian._

oOo

The headlines screamed. 

All hell broke lose. 

Which was to be expected. 

Malcolm was seated in a leather chair, a bib wrapped around his neck, under his chin, as a BBC makeup lady with startling pink hair, brushed matt powder over his face. 

"Don't fucking make me look like I've got a fake tan!" 

Eyes shut, the brush tickled, as she moved around him, and then began to tease at his hair. 

"What the fuck are you doing now?" He asked, eyes snapping open. 

"You want to look good for your public don't you Mr Tucker?" She beamed, leaning back slightly to admire her handiwork. 

"Yeah.....good.....not fucking bouffant Liberace!" He retorted. 

"Well, you're done. And you're on in ten." She replied with a smirk. 

Malcolm emerged, suitably matt, and not pasty! 

Sam was waiting for him backstage, so was Jamie. 

Her face was strained and white, and she clutched Jamie's hand tightly. Without him, she wouldn't have been able to face being there alone, under such scrutiny. But he agreed to come, to support her, and his friend, and Sam was grateful for it. 

"Wish me luck!" He murmured, as he was ushered past them. 

"Shit all over the fucking condescending prick!" Jamie responded through gritted teeth. 

Walking onto set, he shook a perfunctory hand with Jeremy Paxman, taking a seat and smoothing his jacket, straightening his tie, as an assistant fitted a mic to his lapel. 

Everything seemed to swing into motion, as first the countdown, then the title music began. 

_"Good evening......_

_On Newsnight tonight.......the man once known as The Dark Lord of Downing Street. Spin Doctor extraordinaire. Now disgraced and resigned as Senior Communications Officer to the Opposition, but suing the Daily Mirror for defamation, we have the former velociraptor in chief, Mr Malcolm Tucker._

_"Welcome to the show Malcolm._ "

"Thrilled to be here Jeremy."

_"So, let's begin straight away, with the latest headlines, in all the papers yesterday. You are suing the Daily Mirror?"_

"That's correct." 

_"Let's talk a little about that. This is relating to the picture presented as evidence, at the Goolding Inquiry, showing you to be in possession of confidential numbers relating to Mr. Douglas Tickel, a former health worker who committed suicide following the key worker housing debacle?"_

"That's right. It condemned me to the gallows.....and its f......it's fake." 

_"A bold statement. How has this come about?"_

"It came about because a close friend of mine examined the picture and compared it to the original taken on that Remembrance Day. The two are not the same. The original shows no numbers on the top of my file. It's blank, as my PA said it was when I left the office that day.  
I never had them in my possession, so I therefore cannot have leaked them to the press." 

_"How did this not come out in the Inquiry?"_

"Ha! Good question! But then, there was a lot that didn't come out in the Inquiry, wasn't there?!" 

_"Well, it seemed pretty cut and dried to me......that you were, ultimately, responsible. You didn't deny it at the time.....why so reticent then, but so 'all guns blazing' now?"_

"Because it took me by surprise Mr Paxman! I was shocked. Nothing I could have said at that point would have made one iota of difference. Once that photo was shown it was the appearance of guilt that counted, in the eyes of the Inquiry, as well as everyone else!" 

_"It looked to me as if you were a worm wriggling on the end of a hook, if you don't mind me saying so! And now you are desperate to clear your name......"_

"I'm not talking purely about myself here, Jeremy. I'm talking about the important stuff.....the reason the Inquiry was convened in the first place......to find the truth behind the suicide of poor Mr Tickel. It's his relatives I feel sorry for. Whilst hanging me out to dry, their man was all but forgotten in the political blame game that the Inquiry then became." 

_"You're trying to tell me you have a heart.....and a conscience Malcolm....? You, who are renowned for your distinct lack of fellow feeling? 'Goebbels from Gorbals' I think Mannion is on record as dubbing you! Suddenly this isn't about you, it's about justice for Mr Tickel?"_

"I have more heart than you'll ever know, mate. Especially where the little people are concerned. The big boys I don't care diddly about, they get what's coming to them, especially when they behave appallingly.  
May I remind you, that it was I who pressed Mrs Murray to call for the Inquiry in the first place?  
The Government were bullying a man with a history of mental illness.....that was wrong, and whether you believe it's down to my conscience or not, that was my motive for wanting it. That and forcing Mrs Murray into a corner, since I knew she'd once supported the Housing Policy.  
I've never hidden that fact, or lied about it.  
I would hardly have asked for an Inquiry if I thought it would finish my own career, now would I?" 

_"I think you were also attempting to discredit the government and more specifically Mr Mannion, who ran the department concerned with the case, whom you are known to harbour ill disguised animosity towards, and it backfired on you horribly!"_

"You can think what you like. At the end of the day, that's just your opinion.  
But I can assure you that neither the present Government nor Mr Peter Mannion MP or, for that matter, Mrs Murray, need someone like me to point out their gross incompetence. They're doing a damn good job of that all by themselves!" 

_"So your reasons were entirely down to feeling sorry for a depressive homeless man protesting outside council offices in a tent?"_

"My reasons were the gross negligence of a government department, who instead of protecting someone vulnerable and helping him, sat around complaining about him and writing snide and nasty things about him in emails to each other......and can I add, that I speak from a position of having suffered from depression myself......I don't make any bones about that, most people know my back story now, it's the truth, it's not nice, it's not fun and it's certainly not something to be lampooned in shared emails." 

_"Well! This is a Malcolm Tucker that we are unfamiliar with. The caring sharing Malcolm Tucker. The spin doctor with a big heart, and a previously unseen soul! You must admit that it takes some believing!"_

"I've never professed to being a saint. Nor am I squeaky clean. I know that. Everyone knows that.....but.....let me say this......I was the ONLY person at that Inquiry to tell the truth. The only one who admitted freely to wrong doing.  
Yes, I set up Nicola Murray that day, with the Quiet Bat People thing. Because she was damaging my party and I wanted everyone to see that. I organised the hack pack. I made no secret of the fact. Yes, it was a betrayal, of the woman I was supposed to be supporting. But I felt it had to be done.....and no, my conscience didn't prick me over that, just as hers didn't trouble her to any great extent, as she sold me down the river when I was forced to resign two years ago. Tit for tat.  
It's the way politics works. It's not pretty but everyone does it......there it is." 

_"But everyone who testified at the Inquiry recognised that you had more to gain by leaking the information than anyone else!"_

"How so?" 

_"You were blatantly using the situation to score points against the Government!"_

"How could I have done that? And when? I have no power. The people who are IN power and HAVE power, are the people to whom no questions were asked. Instead.....and I'll quote myself here......I was ogled like a frickin page three girl, blamed for the whole culture of leaking. It was laid firmly at my door, and everyone else scuttled off sharpish, not being able to believe their f.......their luck.  
There was much more than just a doctored photo in this. There was a whole conspiracy. As I said at the time ...'A political class that has given up on morality, and pursues popularity at all costs'......."

 _"So you think you were used as a scapegoat?"_

"I don't THINK I was, I know I was!" 

" _That much is clear.........so what do you think should happen now, Mr Tucker?"_

"Well, since the CPS have denied me the chance to defend myself in a Court of Law, I am standing full square behind the Tickel family, in calling for a second Inquiry.....the public are demanding it. People want to know the truth......so far that is not what they have been given. They have been fed lies and fudge and political deflection of blame.  
I have found in my vast experience that _'The Great British Public'_ are, by and large, both informed and intelligent, they know when they've been fobbed off, and I, for one, want to know who DID leak the Medical Records, because it sure as heck wasn't me.......and I want to know why an ill and vulnerable man had to die, rather than be given the help and care he so desperately needed." 

_"Do you think the Prime Minister will bow to the pressure for a second Inquiry?"_

"I think if he doesn't he's going to be in the centre of a Political storm of hurricane magnitude. I think even his own party want answers, as well as those in opposition. There are fundamental questions to be answered, not just about the leaking culture, but about the treatment of the unfortunate Mr Tickel, and also the integrity of the whole Inquiry panel. It's my opinion that they were in some way compromised. I would like to know by whom.....and how high up the gangrene goes. I'm sure there are plenty of the voting public who would like an answer to those questions too."

 _"Well, there's certainly a lot of meat on the bone there._  
_It remains to be seen whether a second Inquiry is forthcoming. In the meantime, The Daily Mirror have a potential court battle on their hands over the publication and accompanying damning article printed during the Inquiry, which clearly names and shames Malcolm Tucker here._  
_Laying the blame for the leak squarely on his shoulders. We asked for a representative from the newspaper to appear on the programme this evening, but regrettably, no one was available, and as yet there has been no statement from them, whilst they consult their legal team._  
_Meanwhile, I'd like to thank Mr Tucker for coming on this evening and speaking so candidly._

_On the programme next week, we will be discussing the crisis in Syria. So, from me, until then, its goodnight._ " 

oOo

"God! Mate! You were fucking magnificent! Hats off to you. You fucking scored major points there! He didn't stand a chance! Fuck me but you're good!" Jamie was filled with admiration. 

By the time the three left the studios it was late. 

Predictably a press pack was gathered outside. 

Malcolm walked forward to hail a black cab, carving a swathe through the assembled crowd, whilst behind him, Jamie put a protective arm around Sam, holding his jacket to shield her face, pulling her close as they followed Malcolm to the curb. 

Shouts for a comment, blinding flash bulbs. 

"There's nothing more to say, it's down to the lawyers now....." Malcolm snapped angrily. 

"Out of the fucking way!" Jamie guided Sam through the throng. Keeping her head hidden with his coat. "It's okay Sam.....just stick close to me......let us through you fuckers....."

oOo

The front pages the following morning all carried the picture, Malcolm barging people aside, palm outstretched, Sam cuddled close to Jamie, as Malcolm forged a path for them through the mob. 

The Sun implying, although not actually saying......that she was in some way involved with them both, a little ménage à trois!! 

Laura rung her first thing in the morning, laughing her head off. 

"Have you seen The Sun?" She giggled. 

"No.......I haven't looked at anything, we were having a lie in......" Sam yawned sleepily. 

"Well, apparently you, Malcolm and Jamie are in some kind of sordid threesome! So when you've finished with him.....can I have him back?" 

"What? Oh God!" Her anguished voice made Malcolm sit up and stretch himself. 

"Who the fuck is that?" He asked blearily. 

"It's Laura.....The Sun are saying that you and Jamie share me........" 

Malcolm burst into a loud wheezing guffaw. 

"Fucking wankers! What a load of bullshit.....what the fuck will they print about me next?" 

He leaned forward towards the phone as Sam held it out.

"Come over Laura......we'll let you in on the action.......you can go underneath......"

"Ewww! Malcolm.....you are truly dreadful!" 

"Listen love....." He took the phone from Sam's hand. "Need you both to come over......seriously......we've got some wedding stuff to discuss.....Jamie didn't want to make any menu decisions without you.....so I thought we could decide what you want and I'll let the caterers know.....is that okay?" 

"Sure. It's great you boys are sorting this....one less thing for me! We'll be over about ten....that okay? You'll be up and about by then?" 

"Fucking cheek! It's only eight.....that's hardly late! We'll see you later!" 

He rang off with a flourish, and turned to Sam. 

"C'mere you brazen hussy......give me a cuddle....." He pressed his lips to hers, and she melted beneath him.  
"Don't even worry about the papers, darl......." He said softly. "......it's so ludicrous it's funny. Don't let it upset you, okay......not when you're feeling so much better." 

She smiled against his skin, reaching a hand down to touch him, causing him to hiss with the sensation. 

"I won't." She whispered. "Not on this occasion. Hmmm! Someone has woken up with morning glory......" 

"You fucking want some of this.....?" He growled, pushing himself against her. 

"What do you think.....?" She replied, as he moved his weight over her. 

oOo

The statutory 28 days passed. 

Malcolm put down the phone. Seated at his desk in the back room, which he laughingly called his 'study'. 

He was very quiet. 

"Who was that sweetie?" Sam leaned against the door frame. 

"Greg Fraser." He replied, motioning to her, so that she came and perched herself on his lap. 

Threading his arms around her middle, he buried his head into her chest. 

"What is it? What did he want?" 

"The Mirror want to settle out of court. They'll print a full apology and retraction." 

"But Malcolm.....that's good.....isn't it...? You'll get your satisfaction, but without having to testify and go through the motions......" 

"I guess........"

"I'm sensing a 'but'......?" 

"But.....it means the details won't be made public. It means I probably won't find out who was responsible for the picture, they'll just say sorry and that'll be that." 

"Malcolm, there are some moments when you just have to take what you can get.....I think this might be one of those moments."

"I know sweetheart." He kissed her. "And I'm sorry. Sorry I put you through this. There's nothing more I can do.....anyway.....we've got the wedding coming up.....and that will be a welcome break from it all. I've had enough. Fuck 'em. I'll throw in the towel." 

Sam took his cheeks in her hands gently. 

"I know it sucks Malc, but at least some grains of truth have come out. It's better than nothing." 

"I fucking love you Sam......and I'm sorry.......just so sorry......." He leaned into her touch sorrowfully. 

"For what? You haven't done anything......." 

"I've made you ill.......all this shit.......and it's scuppered my plans, made me restless and unsettled.....but it ends here. I promise." 

"I fucking love you Malcolm." 

oOo

Some weeks later......

" **TUCKER WINS PAYOUT** " _by Angela Heaney. Daily Mail._

 _"Former spin doctor Malcolm Tucker, was today awarded an undisclosed six figure sum in an out of court settlement, from The Daily Mirror newspaper._  
_This morning a full retraction and apology appeared on the front page of the paper, along with their originally printed photograph, and the genuine uncropped version._

 _The settlement ends months of speculation regarding Tucker's integrity in the aftermath the Goolding Inquiry, and lays to rest some of the spurious allegations against him._

_Relatives of Mr Tickel, the man who's suicide was supposed to be at the centre of the investigation, are still vocally calling on the Government for a second Inquiry, and there is increasing support for this across all parties._  
_The Prime Minister gave a statement supporting the Inquiry's findings, following the Daily Mail Article, which questioned the credibility of Lord Goolding himself and the Inquiry panel in the light of their handling of the other witnesses, as well as Mr Tucker himself._  
_The PM made it clear then, that a second investigation was out of the question._  
_However, in light of The Mirror's admission of falsehood, more vociferous calls have been made._

_Meanwhile, Mr Malcolm Tucker, former Director of Communications, who was forced to resign from top tier politics as a result, has lent his own weight to the Tickel family's concerns, and has personally contacted them to add his voice to the increasing number asking for a reexamination of the facts......."_


	16. To Have and to Hold.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Laura's big day. 
> 
> Malcolm has to focus very hard indeed......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References here to Malcolm's reactions at being inside a church, please see chapters in Shitstorm for the explanation. 
> 
> Sam contradicts herself here with her exchange with Malcolm about their future. 
> 
> The words she gives him are what she thinks he wants to hear, the words she shared with Laura at the wedding fitting, are what she ACTUALLY feels. 
> 
> It's something that is going to rear its ugly head again further down the line.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.  
TO HAVE AND TO HOLD.

Jamie and Malcolm stood shoulder to shoulder at the front of the church. 

Both equally pale. 

Malcolm watched as his friend pushed a finger nervously around the inside of his collar, as if it were about to strangle him. 

"It's okay mate. Calm yersel! Happiest day of your life!" 

Jamie shot him a withering glance. 

"That's what I fucking said last time!" He replied quietly, looking suddenly green around the gills. 

"This isn't like last time.......this is the real thing......I know it and you know it.....and you'll be fine!" 

"You've got the rings?" He asked suddenly, his eyes almost popping out of his head. 

Malcolm patted his breast pocket comfortingly. 

"Stop it! You're fucking making me nervous too!" He hissed, through gritted teeth. 

There was a scuffling at the back as the main doors opened. 

The first notes of Richard Wagner's Lohengrin began from the organ, above and to the left of them. 

"This is it!" Whispered Malcolm, and both men turned eyes front. 

Music swelled and gathered volume, filling the vaulted ceiling, echoing from the carved wooden saints and apostles which peered down onto the tops of their heads with their unseeing eyes. Neither could resist the urge to turn round and peep. 

Laura. 

A vision, swathed in satin and antique lace. Diamanté tiara in her hair. 

On the arm of her proud father. 

She smiled broadly when she set eyes on her husband to be.

Malcolm was only momentarily transfixed by her, before being utterly captivated by Sam who walked sedately behind the bride, clutching a posy of roses in one hand and the small fingers a little page boy (Laura's nephew) in the other. 

So utterly beautiful. 

She appeared to him to be floating. Ethereal. 

A slight flush to her cheeks, eyes cast down reverentially. 

Malcolm didn't think he'd ever seen her look more stunning.  
The dress. High heels making her look taller.  
Her hair......worn down, curled into waves, pulled back from her face clipped with rosebuds which matched her gown. 

As she drew nearer, she glanced up and their eyes locked. 

Malcolm swallowed. 

If someone had asked him at that moment, to swap places, to stand where Jamie now stood, with her beside him, he would have given everything he possessed without a second thought. 

But this was his friend's day, not his. It wasn't him who was marrying the woman he loved more than life itself. 

His jaw worked subconsciously as he tried to rein in not only his emotions, but traumatic memories which flooded his mind, as the smell of incense hit him. 

Fortunately the solemnity of the moment, and the tremendous rush of pride and adoration that filled his chest at the sight of Sam, served to push down the reaction in his throat which would almost certainly have caused him to gag. 

Focus Malcolm.....fucking focus! 

Groom and Best Man stepped forwards together as the bride reached the end of the nave. 

Jamie's eyes glittered, and he mouthed _"I love you"_ as Laura came to a halt beside him. 

Turning, she handed her bouquet to Sam, as the priest raised his arms in front of the pair as a signal to begin the ceremony. 

Malcolm's fingers shook as he placed the rings onto the outstretched prayer book, to be blessed by the Father. 

As the couple said their vows, tears coursed down Malcolm face, he wiped a hand under his nose several times. A little nudge on his arm caused him to turn, Sam leaning towards him with a tiny smile of sympathy and a tissue. 

She alone knew just what being inside this church cost him. 

Having been pronounced Man and Wife, the newlyweds walked slowly up the steps to the altar for the blessing part of the ritual, allowing Malcolm to sit down on the front pew with Sam at his side, blowing out his cheeks in relief.  
Feeling blindly for her hand, he clutched it tight and didn't let go.  
He couldn't look at her, or speak, concentrating on breathing little puffs of air out through his mouth, then sucking in again. Nor did he sing the hymns or so much as murmur the responses.  
Such was the enormous effort of holding himself together. 

None of the group had really considered how hard it would be for him. Caught up in their exhilaration of the day. Naturally he hadn't said a word.  
This was Jamie's big day, and Malcolm did not want any part of it to be about him.  
Or his _'hangups'._  
He had to deal with it. 

So he did. 

The feel of Sam's arm against the sleeve of his suit. Her fingers clasped in his. The calm serenity she exuded. It was overwhelming. Chest heaving a few times. For a moment he let his eyes flutter shut.  
A whisper beside him, barely audible.

"Breathing Malcolm......count of five.......in and out.......you're doing fine....."

Nodding. Opening his eyes again, looking down at her, as she looked up at him. 

"Almost there." She murmured. "You're so brave my darling." 

"So are you." He replied. "Fuck Sam....I can't wait to get out of here....I need a drink!" 

"Here they come now! Oh Malcolm, they look so happy, just radiant." 

The Mendelssohn Wedding March struck up. Beaming smiles and whoops all round. 

They rose together, Malcolm offered Sam his arm, which she took, linking at the elbow, walking down the nave behind their friends, towards the waiting cars. 

A few press were there outside, Sam and Malcolm glanced in their direction. Gave a smile and a wave. 

"Cunts!" Malcolm spat. 

Let them take their fucking photos. 

Make up some cruddy story. He could see the headlines now....

 _"The Caledonian Mafia. Malcolm Tucker is Best Man at friend's wedding._ "

 _"All smiles as King of Spin turns on the charm."_

_"Best Bib and Tucker......"_

Fuck them all! 

oOo

Samantha Cassidy lay on her right side. 

Directly behind her, Malcolm. 

Curled into the curve of her body, his chest pressed against her back. Where her legs bent up at the knees, his were tucked up close behind hers. 

One arm slung over and around her middle, his long fingers resting, relaxed, on her forearm. 

Because he was naked, as per usual, she could feel his 'man parts' against her backside. 

Soft though, because he was deeply asleep. Worn out but happy. 

His head rested on her pillow so that she could feel his breath gently on the back of her hair. 

Her mind wandered over the events of the day before. 

Such a happy day. 

She let out a little contented sigh, and Malcolm stirred, snuggling in even closer to her, his hand momentarily gripping her more tightly, before loosening as he drifted deeper again. 

Sam felt better, not completely back to her old self. But much improved.  
Safe and protected. 

That's how she felt. 

For all he could be a vulnerable and somewhat lost soul, at times insecure and sentimental, his innate masculinity these last few months had been her port in the storm.  
A strong anchorage. A secure harbour where she could moor and rest when she desperately needed it. 

His submissiveness had diminished. Also the shyness and fear of asking for what he wanted. He was now more confident and more assertive. 

Sam liked that. A lot. 

She enjoyed giving him pleasure, letting him take control. Their sex life was more fulfilling because of it. Allowing his natural instincts to come to the fore rendered him a most attentive and satisfying lover, it also gave him headspace to express himself more fully in the sack, something he'd never really had an opportunity to experience before.  
He couldn't get enough of it. 

Only a couple of days before he had been feeling particularly bold and authoritative, commanding her to kneel on all fours on the bed, in front of him, wearing stockings and black lace he'd bought her, backside in the air, awaiting his pleasure. 

Her anticipation excited him, her pupils dark with desire, biting her lip coquettishly.

"You're a bit of a filthy minx really aren't you Sam?" 

He stroked her arse cheeks, caressing then squeezing her soft flesh, reaching forwards between her legs, making her gasp with arousal. 

"Mmm hmm! I am where you're concerned.....oh God Malc......yes.......don't stop....."

A pause.

"You want my cock......?" 

"I'd like your cock very much.....Sir........."

"Fucking hell Sam.........for Christ's sake.......!" 

When she talked like that it messed with his fucking head. 

"I love your cock Sir......may I have it please? I'll beg......" 

"Go on then......do you deserve it do you think......?" 

"Yes! I do! Please Malcolm, I want it bad......I want to come.......I need to.....please......" 

"We'll see......I'm not sure if I should allow you......you're far too naughty to warrant it....."

She turned to face him, looking up pleadingly into his eyes, her hands holding his thighs, his erect penis inches from her face.

"I promise I'll earn it Sir......." She whimpered. ".........shall I suck it for you?" 

Malcolm exploded then and there, before her lips had hardly touched him. He collapsed down over her with a groan, pumping his hips as he spilled himself onto her breasts and stomach. 

"Shit! Fuck!.......sorry Sam......." He gasped. 

"Aw! You were doing so well......then you blew it by apologising! Don't apologise to me for coming Malcolm.....you come whenever you want.....and when you get hard again......well......then you can fuck me good and proper.....if it pleases you that is!" 

He lay on his back, breathing hard. 

Saying 'fuck, fuck, fuck' under his breath, as she stroked his chest gently. 

"I'll never get used to this......" He wheezed. "I keep feeling guilty!" 

"You're learning." She smiled, leaning over him, kissing him deeply, her hair falling over his face.

"Makes me feel so......so.....fuck, I don't know......lightheaded.....so turned on.....it's like I can't hold it in......I love it Sam.....truly......it makes me feel so good......like I'm floating.....it's fucking wonderful." 

"Good! I'm glad. It makes me super horny too.....because it's you being you.....all masterful and......mmmm, I'm getting wetter just thinking about it......" 

"Fucking fuck me, Sam!"

oOo

It was just becoming light. 

Sam had eventually drifted off to sleep in the early hours.

A deep sleepy voice behind her rumbled. 

"You looked so fucking fine yesterday, Sam. So fine." 

Smiling to herself, as he pulled her closer. 

She knew him so well, she could almost hear him thinking. 

Turning over to face him. Touching his dear face gently. 

"You too!" She whispered. "That suit.....holy moly! So sexy!" 

"I'm so sorry all our plans have been put on the back burner Sam." 

Her fingers were scratching his scalp softly, making him sigh with pleasure. 

"Oh Malcolm, don't! I can almost hear the cogs turning. What do you mean....?" 

"That's the trouble, you know what I fucking mean......seriously Sam......let me say this, I need to get it out..." 

Ceasing her ministrations, she sat up, looking down at him with concern. 

The sad blue eyes that looked back at her were filled with anguish. 

"Just give me time Sam.......be patient with me, you know it's what I want, more than anything, but I just can't.......not at the moment. Everything's so up in the air. Unsettled. Me. You. All this shit going on. I just need it to be over......I need clear water ahead, otherwise......"

"Malcolm! Stop!" She held his face in her hands, her thumbs against his cheeks, she could see he was close to tears. 

"Please. Don't say anymore! All along I've been scared it wasn't what you really wanted, or that you would feel cornered if I told you how I truly felt....." 

He made to protest, but she shushed him.

".....let me finish......Malcolm, I know you love me. We fit together like peas and carrots as the great Forrest Gump said! I confess that a couple of months ago I was feeling melancholy about the whole thing, wishing I'd never said anything. But that would have been wrong. As soon as a couple have secrets from one another, the rot sets in.  
We are tight, you and me.....I don't need a piece of paper and a ring to confirm that......let's just stay as we are.....okay?  
We're happy. Well, I hope you are......I know I am......."

Malcolm nodded vigorously as the tears began to spill. 

"........one day, maybe it'll be right......but until it is, then let's continue like this, together. A partnership. No drama, no pressure, no fixed time frame......just us......a couple.....how does that sound?" 

"I fucking love you!" He sobbed.

Nestling his head down against her body, she soothed him, quietly stroking his back, placing little kisses against his skin. 

"As long as I'm by your side, nothing else matters Malcolm. Truly. Stay close to me, that's all I ask." 

"Always." He murmured, fingering the tiny padlock heart and key he'd given her, which she always wore around her neck. "Always."


	17. Peter (the cheater) Mannion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm receives a phone call from Greg Fraser. 
> 
> Some new information has come to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the info in this chapter I've gleaned from the Inquiry episodes and the snippets of background we are given on the character of Mannion.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.  
PETER 'the cheater' MANNION.

Malcolm was quiet and subdued for the next few days. 

Sam would catch him gazing off into the distance, lost in thought. As she had seen him so many times in the past. 

She said nothing. Let him alone to work it out. 

He was sitting in his study when his mobile rang. Ramsey draped across his computer keyboard, a coffee at his elbow, swinging his chair from side to side moodily.  
The ring made him jump out of his skin. 

"Hello? Tucker." 

"Malcolm, it's Greg. I think you'd better come to my office. There's been a bit of a development." 

"Development? What development?"

"I can't talk about it over the phone......you need to get yourself over here.....you can bring Sam if you want, she might like to be included in this." 

"Can't you give me a clue? Do you have to be so fucking mysterious?" 

"Sorry. No I can't. Shall we make it eleven?" 

"We'll be there." 

oOo

It was a slightly agitated Malcolm who entered Greg Fraser's office, with Sam holding tight to his hand. 

"Greg....what the fuck is all this about? Cut the cloak and dagger......oh.....hello Jim!" 

Jim Lawrence, the private investigator, and ex policeman, whom Malcolm had hired to try to dig up the dirt on Miller, was sitting in an adjacent chair, his long legs crossed one over the other nonchalantly. 

"Hello Malcolm." He seemed to unfold himself, as he rose to his feet and shook first his employers hand and then Sam's. 

"What's going on? What's this fucking development?" Malcolm demanded irritably. 

"Well, as you know, I gave up on the Miller thing. Whilst he is undoubtedly an oily bastard, I could find nothing really damning about him....I'm sure he would much prefer his private life and his sexual proclivities to remain, well, private.....but nothing he's done is actually a crime. It may be sordid, but it's not illegal. We all know he'd sell his granny to be leader of the opposition, but there I think circumstances have done him a few favours.....i.e. Nicola's demise at your hands and you being blamed for every political balls up since the miners strike! Not to mention you practically orchestrating his rise....however unwittingly!" 

Malcolm shrugged matter of factly. 

"Can't be helped! Fuck.....and I was so sure that the burglary at my house was something to do with him!"  
He held his head in his hands momentarily, before looking up.

"So what is it then? If not Miller....what have you found?" 

"Several things actually, which I think will be of a great deal of interest.....shall we sit?" 

The four seated themselves around the table in Fraser's board room. 

From a briefcase Lawrence began taking files, some of which Malcolm recognised as once being held in his safe. 

"I decided to concentrate my efforts on the man I felt had a great deal to gain from you taking the flak for Mr Tickel's suicide. Mr Peter Mannion MP. What I found is really quite interesting. An old school politician, a dinosaur in fact ......with a great many friends in high places it appears. Did you know he went to Harrow with Simon Weir and Matthew Hodge?"

"From the Inquiry panel? Fuck.....no!" Malcolm's eyes widened. 

"Is it the reason Fergus and Adam were so keen to distance themselves from him....embarrass him by showing they personally had reservations over the housing policy? Mind you....they did nothing to stop it." Sam observed wisely. "In fact, by leaking the email showing their hypocrisy, they undermined their own position, bringing themselves to the attention of the Inquiry....and showed they were totally unconcerned with what happened to poor Mr Tickel." 

Lawrence nodded sagely. 

"A very astute observation!" He conceded. 

"Well, I sat through every rotten day of that damn Inquiry, I took notes for Christ's sake! I was Malcolm's eyes and ears....for all the good it did either of us!" 

Malcolm reached across and squeezed her hand. 

"And did you know he was having an affair?" The PI asked, not without relish. 

"What? Well.....I mean, he had an fling with his researcher.....they had a child.......but that was a long while ago....." 

"Well, this is one of the secretaries in the DoSAC offices."

"Oh Christ! Tell me it's not Terri Coverley.......?" 

"It's not Terri Coverley........"

"Thank fuck for that......!" 

Sam let out a deep sigh. 

"God! Poor Tina!" 

"Exactly......the long suffering Tina, who took him back after the first liaison.....made a united front of it, when he was reelected, it's my opinion that there have been others too, but I only have evidence for the one." 

"That's why they call him Peter 'the cheater'. What a cunt!" Malcolm huffed. 

"They meet each time he stays over in London, when he's attending Parliament, usually in a nice Hotel, double room, hot and cold, brekkie in bed and a morning paper etc etc......" 

Jim laid a set of long lens surveillance photos on the table for their perusal. Malcolm leaned forwards, hawklike, scanning the pictures with distaste.  
Various clinches, a couple of fumbling snogs, all rather sordid really. 

"This is hardly anything more than Huffington fodder.......and nothing to do with the Inquiry....I don't really give a fuck that he can't keep his pork in his trousers.....!"  
Malcolm sat back in his chair, disappointed. 

"There's more." The ex copper produced another sheaf of printouts. This time of text messages. 

"These are messages between Mannion and Alastair Leyton.......don't ask.....I have a friend in CID.......you know Leyton Malcolm?" 

"Course I do. Senior exec at The Times." 

"It also appears he's a great chum of our Mr M......." 

Malcolm read the messages, his eyes darting over the various exchanges cursorily, then focusing on one specific text. 

"Fuck my arse and call me Trixie!!" He exclaimed. 

"What is it?" Sam snatched the paper from him and read eagerly. 

"It was him.....HE fucking leaked the medical stuff.......?" 

"No......he didn't......he rang Alastair to leak about the leak.....!!! Just as the PM called for an inquiry into the culture of leaking!" 

"So he was covering his own arse......?" Malcolm's face registered barely controlled fury. 

"Hold on......" Sam rose to her feet, pacing. "Two things scream at me here......one is, why would he feel he should have do that? Answer......because he thought the original leak came from his own side, NOT the opposition......someone else trying to cover THEIR arse.....and secondly......Mannion figured he's going to look not only guilty, but incompetent.....he thinks someone IN HIS OWN PARTY is trying to shaft him!" 

"Christ Sam.....you have a mind like a fucking chain saw....." 

"Oh Malcolm, that's not the half of it......" Her face was flushed now. "We ALL heard him.....Goolding asked him point blank if he leaked......he denied ever having done so.....he lied. He perjured himself. Just as Glenn did over your PFI emails.....he's as guilty as sin!!" 

The four sat across the table from each other in stunned silence for a few moments.  
Malcolm furious, Sam shaking uncontrollably with rage and indignation. Greg Fraser staring blankly at the desk in front of him.  
Lawrence finally pushed back his chair. 

"How about a coffee before we continue?" He said quietly. 

Malcolm glanced up....

"Continue? You mean there's MORE?" 

"'Fraid so......"

"Can this fucking day get any worse?!"

oOo

"I'd like to take you back to the weeks and months before the Inquiry.....before anything about Tickel began, before the Trident faux pas, when it looked as if Nicola would be Leader of the Oppostion for eternity." The ex policeman, ever the professional, began, bringing out a pad containing copious notes. 

"I'm old school!" He smiled. "Don't trust computers.....you lose stuff, or it gets eaten, or deleted by mistake.....and then it's gone for good!" 

He continued.....

"In these....your......files, are the details of the PFI procurement debacle." Lawrence opened a plastic folder and took out some papers. "You knew about Mannion's vehement opposition to Nicola and her husband and the whole PFI thing of course?" 

"Of course. It's the OTHER reason I asked Nicola to call the Inquiry.....apart from the embarrassment I knew it would cause the government......" Malcolm shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Sam. 

"I think you'd better tell me what you did......" Jim frowned at Malcolm as if he were a naughty schoolboy. 

"Ok......the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God!......." Malcolm held one hand aloft as if reciting an oath. 

".......Nicola wasn't going to take my advice on calling the Inquiry, so I had to force her hand....by putting her in a position where I knew she couldn't refuse. She calls for an Inquiry into Tickel's death only......and the events leading to it......i.e. The selling off of key worker housing.  
My only thought at that time was to engineer a coup, using only people in my party over whom I had some influence.....and Glenn of course......in the most embarrassing way I could." 

Sam piped up.

"Tell him about Ollie, Malc ....."

"Oh yeah.....giving Reeder the task of finding something utterly damaging on Murray was a test......of his loyalty to me. Because I knew the slimy ponce had none. It was he that remembered that the selling of the KW housing was a policy of the previous government, and that she'd wholeheartedly supported it.....along with Ben. Since Glenn was working with us at the time, I knew he'd know just where to find the relevant emails, and that they wouldn't have been deleted."

"But Nicola Murray backed off the policy due to her husband's conflict of interest.....am I correct in saying that Mannion despised James Murray?" Jim asked. 

"Oh God yeah! Hated him......because he was strongly against his company's dodgy finance scheme.....but that was way before the Inquiry or Tickel or any of that stuff.....anyway, Glenn leaked the email directly to the press....not to Mannion. Then I put Nicola on the train, hoping her claustrophobia might panic her into doing what I wanted.....it worked.....small confined railway carriage.....Murray in fucking meltdown......" 

Sam pulled a highly displeased face. Malcolm shrugged a 'mea culpa'. 

".....I received a copy of the email directly from Glenn too. Sam was there when it came in.....she held my phone up so I could read it.......whilst I was on the other line to Murray." 

"So you then told her to go and speak to the Sky News team and call for the Inquiry?" 

"Yeah. The Telegraph website already had it online by then. It's her own hypocrisy that's revealed in that email that caused her to resign. She knew straight away how bad it would look. She was about to be smacked in the face by her own complicity. She knew darn well she'd backed off from that policy, not for moral reasons, but because of her husband." 

"Did it not ever occur to you that the PFI info you held would be extremely interesting to Mannion? BEFORE the inquiry I mean.....it would be the perfect way to destroy James Murray. For whom he's held an undisguised contempt ever since he was demoted, first to DEFRA.....then to DoSAC......for his dissent, because he refused to tow the party line.....spoke up against PFI......made himself unpopular, showed himself to be a backward thinking old fossil......consigned himself to the outskirts of Ministerial politics." 

Malcolm puffed out his cheeks. 

"Look at this photograph Malcolm......it is taken at St Pancras Station, do you recognise the man he's talking to?" 

Malcolm looked. 

His eyes narrowed, then widened.

"Fucking fuck me!" He breathed. 

Sam peered over his shoulder and gave a little cry. 

"It's the man who burgled my house.....I'd know him anywhere!"


	18. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is feeling out of sorts after the revelations concerning Peter Mannion.
> 
> He and Sam go on a visit to Malcolm's sister and her family. 
> 
> Malcolm has another heart to heart with his nephew Alex.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.  
CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON.

Malcolm sat at the dinner table chasing his food around the plate with his fork. 

"Are you going to eat that, or play with it?" Sam asked gently. 

"Do you think he was doing it off his own bat.....or someone else told him to......" Malcolm mused by way of a reply. 

"Well, I wouldn't have said he had it in him. But then, I wouldn't have said he seemed the type to have multiple love affairs either......so, what do I know.....?" Sam responded. 

Rising she walked around behind her man and wrapped her arms around his neck, crossing them at his throat. She kissed the soft skin just beneath his ear. He leaned into her embrace in spite of himself. 

"Let the police investigate it. Leave it be....and take Greg's advice.....don't go near him, don't have anything to do with him, just let it take its course.....they'll track down that felon, and they'll interview Mannion......we'll see what he has to say. It's up to them to bring a prosecution if there's one to be bought......we must be patient." 

Malcolm slammed his cutlery down with a crash, making Sam jump and startling Ramsey, who was seated at his feet. 

"PATIENT! Patient is it?" He exploded. "Another fucking year of my life has gone by! It'll be Christmas again soon.....another fucking twelve months of shite.  
Forever in the fucking papers, always judged and vilified, it's fucked up my plans, my whole fucking existence.....and yours too.....it could have destroyed us.....if we weren't so strong together......I even got beaten to a fucking pulp.....I'm SICK AND TIRED of it all Sam......I feel ten years older, I've lost weight....again......it's been ages since that sodding Inquiry ended.....and I'm still no further forrard......it's like a waking fucking nightmare......and meanwhile Peter fucking Mannion has been happily skipping along, shagging his secretary or whoever she is, the fucking lying, cheating, piece of shit."

Sam soothed him, pushing back his chair and seating herself across his lap, her face close to his. 

"I know sweetie. I know. But there's nothing else we can do......anger won't solve anything, it just makes you feel worse......"

"It's more than anger, it's rage. And pain. Fucking, fuck me Sam...I just want a quiet, normal life, just the chance to be happy.......that's all I want.....is it so much to ask?  
No drama, no fucking trauma.......just you and me and being loved.......for fucks sake......that pain in my chest......here......" He balled his fist against his sternum. "......it's back.....just as it ever was....a great big bolus of hurt.....right there."  
He bashed the clenched hand hard against his ribs.

"Oh Malc! I'm so sorry." She closed her fingers over his and squeezed. "You want me to give you a massage maybe......help ease the stress......? You're clearly not going to eat your dinner.....so come on, it might relax you a bit." 

"I've got no fucking appetite. And no, I don't want a massage.....although it's lovely of you to try......I just......I just want to be by myself for a bit. Think I'll go for a walk maybe, or a drive...." 

Sam regarded him sceptically. 

"Malcolm Tucker....... _don't you dare_.......!"

"What?" He challenged. 

"Don't you fucking shut me out......then go off and do something daft.....I know you....this is me, Sam! I know how your mind works......."

"Me being on my own for a bit isn't shutting you out.....I just need time to myself, to think....."

"That's fine and dandy......that I can live with......but going for a walk? Or a drive? Sorry Malc but I know you too well......you're angry and wired......you'll find yourself at Mannion's doorstep.....to confront him or do something stupid....like punch his lights out or something......don't tell me it didn't cross your mind." 

"I fucking hate it when you do that! I can't have any secrets from you can I? Mystic fucking Meg! Fucking hell Sam.....I feel like I'm bursting.....like I want to scream and yell and hit things." 

"I know Malcolm. I know that's how you feel. That's why I suggested a massage.....because it might serve to relieve you a little. Calm you down. Please?" 

"You know where he got the information don't you? Mannion I mean. About my dirt files....." 

Sam looked at him, eyebrows raised questioningly. 

"Pearson. That's who. He knew.....Christ, some of the gossip came from him in the first place....oh yes.....he knew all about Malcolm Tucker's dirt files alright......the shine headed wanker!" 

"You're probably right. But it doesn't make much difference either way.....Malcolm, come on, come upstairs with me......." She held out both hands invitingly. "Please...."

oOo

"I think we should go up to Scotland for a few days, visit your sister, see the kids, recover our perspective. You haven't seen Nancy for a while......how about it?" 

Sam was propped against the headboard of their bed, supported by pillows. Cradled in her arms was a somewhat oily, boneless lump that was now Malcolm. Fury melted away.  
He was clinging to her, his head resting on her stomach, she stroked his hair affectionately, almost as if he were a pet. 

"If you want....." His voice was muffled against her skin. 

"I was talking about it to Mr Faversham yesterday, he thought it was a good idea. It's been a while since we had a break." 

"How's it going with him?" Malcolm raised his head sleepily, looking into her face. 

"It's good. He's good. I've been talking a great deal lately about my parents. He thinks I compartmentalised a load of stuff all those years ago, and never really dealt with it properly, and I need to. So I am. It's helping......and I feel stronger." 

"You're okay going alone? I don't mind going with you Sam......" 

She touched his cheek gently. 

"Bless you.....I know you don't. But I'm managing alright. Pilates too. Providing you're happy to drop me off I'm fine. If I have a problem, or I can't face it.....I'll ask....okay?" 

"Okay, Sam." He answered meekly. 

"You've been wonderful throughout all this.....I'd have never got through it without you. You've been there for me every step of the way, in spite of everything going on......thank you Malc." 

"Never had a woman who needed me before. Not like that anyway. Someone who I feel I fit with, belong to......imagine that Sam! Almost fifty.....and never had a proper relationship like I have with you......and I was married for fucks sake!" 

Sometimes, for a big man.....and Malcolm was physically quite large, although slim, he was tall and imposing......he seemed to Sam almost childlike. 

No dominance tonight, no cocky arrogance or boldness, he was like a lost lamb. 

He shifted himself closer, nuzzling his nose against her breast bone. Beginning to sniff. 

Sam knew what that meant. 

"Oh my dear." She said, holding him as tightly as she could. "Don't get upset! Some people go their whole lives and _never_ find the one for them. We are the lucky ones, you and I......against all the odds, we've found something so special.....we know how precious it is.....how valuable.....and we must never take it for granted." 

"It's the massage.....you touching me, relaxing me, showing me such love, such tenderness and kindness. All the stuff comes out when I let go.....I don't know how you do it.....but it's always happened, right from that very first time you did it.....remember? All that time ago.......it's like waves of emotion. I can't control it or hold it in, with you. I'm weak with it.  
It hits me like a slap in the face......but it helps, I always feel better afterwards, like a weight lifted......thanks to you." 

Leaning down, without words, she raised his head, her mouth finding his, latching on, and moving gently at first, then more strongly as he responded to her. 

He was breathing hard when they separated. His lips glistening wet, eyelids heavy with weariness. 

"Sleep Malc......then tomorrow we'll pack up and leave. The dragon's fire has temporarily died down, but the embers are still smouldering.....they'll burn for a while yet, but a little flame is a good thing. Get some rest. In the morning.....well.....who knows...it's a new day....." 

"God! But I fucking love you.....Sam!" 

oOo

Alex McDonald sat on the stool in the diner, swinging his legs happily. 

Chuffed to bits to be alone with his beloved uncle. 

With a tall glass and a long spoon......ice cream, cherries, chocolate sauce and chopped nuts......

Sam, Nancy and Caitlin were at the park. 'Mac' was still at work. 

"Why didn't you want to go to the park?" Malcolm asked, as he delved into the ice cream and scooped out a large spoonful.

"Because you didn't want to, and I wanted to stay with you." Replied the boy with startling honesty.

He had chocolate sauce on his chin, and a splodge on the front of his T shirt, but he didn't care. 

"Uncle Malcolm?" 

"Yes Alex....." 

"Are you and Auntie Sam both okay?" 

"God, Alex.....you don't beat about the bush do you! You're like the Grand Inquisitor!" 

"What does that mean?" 

"It means you ask very direct questions and you go straight for the jugular!" 

"I see. Well? Are you?" 

"Yes. We are alright. We've had another horrendous shit year, and Auntie Sam hasn't been well, but she's much better now and maybe one day we'll reach the end of the tunnel and come out into the light." 

"She looks thin......" 

Malcolm swallowed. 

"I know." 

".......like you did......you know.....before. When the awful thing happened to you, that you tried to tell me about, when you were a little boy......" 

"I know." 

"Why does everyone hate you so?"

"What?" 

"When the reporters turned up on our doorstep, and mam threw water over them....I heard mam and da talking.....and they said the whole country hated your guts. Have you done something VERY bad?" 

"Not this time.....not really.....for once in my life I actually told the truth......but I got dumped on anyway.....I'm not a saint Alex.....don't hero worship me.....I've done a great many things I'm not proud of." 

"Nobody is though.....are they? A saint I mean.....everyone does stuff they wish they hadn't sometimes.....it doesn't mean you are all bad, it just means you've made the wrong choices." 

"Christ, Alex......that's fucking perceptive......" His nephew grimaced slightly at the swear word, then smiled.

".......listen to me, I've made plenty of crap choices in the past, I've lied, I've cheated, I've shafted people. I've been mean and nasty and unkind....I'm far from perfect okay? I freely admit it.....but I'm trying to be better. I'm trying to get my life together and give it some meaning.....I want to leave that stuff behind and move on." 

"Uncle Malc, you're no different from anyone else. Those things you say you've done.....everyone has done those things.......some much worse......and lots get away with it......but you've done other things too......good things......but I don't care about all that.....you're just Uncle Malcolm.....and I love you." 

"I'm glad you have such faith in me! And I love you too. You're a fine young man." 

"I think being with Auntie Sam has been the making of you.......I overheard mam say that....but it's true. When you are with her, you seem.....seem......I don't know......I can't describe it.....like you've got a light inside you......." 

Malcolm almost choked. 

"How old are you? Remind me again......" 

"Eleven." 

"Are you sure? I mean, there's not a forty year old trapped inside you is there?" 

Alex pondered thoughtfully. 

"When you used to come here before, you were dark, and grey, and lonely......you're not like that anymore." 

"Thank Christ for that!" 

"Uncle Malcolm.....?" 

"What is it champ?" 

"I wanted to talk to you about stuff."

"Go ahead.....fire away!"

"Next year I go to my new school.......I wish I could stay where I am, I like it there." 

"It's worrying you?" 

"A bit......I've got to start thinking about what I want to do.....what subjects I might choose when I take my options.....it'll go really fast. It's so huge. I want to get it right." 

"You'll have some mates there too though, won't you? All going through the same?" 

"Well.....yeah. I guess. I haven't really got many friends.....they think I'm a bit of a geek." 

"Why do they think that?" 

"Because I like books, and poetry, and science, space and sci fi......stuff like that." 

"I know it's hard Alex but never be afraid to follow your heart.....like what you like, don't change to try and please others." 

"I'm trying. But at senior school it's harder to fit in, and I want to fit in.....be like the others....I wish I was a grown up so I wasn't so afraid.....it's a bit scary....."

Malcolm gathered the chocolatey boy into his embrace.  
Fuck! But he knew just how he felt. He remembered it so clearly. What it was to be a square peg in a round hole. Butterflies in his stomach when he faced the enormity of a new chapter in his adolescent life.  
By that time he was scarred. Mentally and physically. Gauche, awkward, shy and fearful.  
_'Different'._  
The prospect of puberty loomed, girls, sexual contact, the cockiness of his peers, their confidence and bravado. A fucking minefield.  
He had been a car crash waiting to happen.  
Had he known what he wanted to do then?  
Not like the young lad sitting next to him. Frowning a look that belied his tender years. 

"Yeah." He swallowed. "I know just what that feels like....and make no mistake.....adults get scared too....I know I do, all the time. Anyone who tells you different is a liar.  
But you're clever Alex and you have a bright future ahead of you. You are observant and quick and you're intuitive and intelligent....maybe that's why your mates find you difficult. You scare them too! Do you know what you want to do?" 

"I want to write." 

"That's wonderful. That's all I ever wanted to do. Books?" 

"Not sure.....I'd like to be a journalist.....like you were......" 

"Great."

"I've written some stories and stuff, and I keep a diary.....would you read through one of my stories?"

"Of course I will. Be glad too."

"I'd like to be a war correspondent at some point." 

"Really? Wow! Well, if I can help you in any way you must ask me, okay.....I'll do anything I can. And don't be afraid to follow your dreams.....it's good to have ambitions and hopes....don't get discouraged by the others......you can always talk to me, I'm here for you.....okay?" 

"Thanks Uncle Malcolm. Thanks a lot." 

Malcolm was enveloped in a warm, if somewhat sticky, hug. 

oOo

"Do you have to go back to London brother dear?" 

Nancy held Malcolm tight around his middle, her head against his jacket. 

"'Fraid so sis. I know it's only been a few days, but Greg needs to see me."

She sniffled, and looked up at him, her eyes wet. 

"I hate this. Hate it. It feels like when you used to go away when we were young, and you always left me behind. I felt like shite back then, I feel like shite now." 

"I'll come back for Hogmanay.....how's that? Promise." 

"Really? That's only weeks away......"

"I know. I'm hoping it'll be over by Christmas! Ha!" He laughed bitterly. "Famous fucking last words!" 

"You want me to come down? To support you.....? I'd like to be there....I'd like to sit in that court room and stare hard at that evil man!" 

Malcolm laughed again, more genuinely this time. 

"Bless you! Don't even know if there's enough there to make a charge. But come anyway. If you want. We'll put you up......bring Alex......if you can sneak him out of school. That boy is a such a special lad Nance.....and one day he's going to be something great....I know it." 

Wiping a tear, and touching her brother's face, she smiled. 

"He's like you." She whispered. "Goodbye Malcolm.....take care of yourself......and take care of Sam too......and Malc.......take my advice......don't wait too much longer......eh?" She winked and nudged him gently. 

She stood in the street, wringing her hands, then waving, as she watched the taxi drive away.


	19. Fractured.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something happens between Malcolm and Sam which calls into question everything that has been quietly simmering between them over the last months. 
> 
> Suddenly things that were certain seem less so. Sam has been thinking a great deal lately about the conversation they'd had before Christmas, and where their future lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally Sam would have probably dealt with this situation without a problem. 
> 
> This time she doesn't. 
> 
> Her mind has been much preoccupied with Malcolm's lack of a proposal. Although her mood has improved, in her present state of mind she's becoming convinced that commitment is not what he wants, and that in spite of all that's been happening with the aftermath of the Inquiry, she's afraid that he's putting it off. 
> 
> She suddenly fears for the future. Which she hasn't done before.
> 
> Malcolm also probably over reacts. Something snaps. It is the culmination of weeks and weeks on a precipice, and the thought that nothing will ever be different. He's never normally cruel, and today he is. He's looking for someone to punish and it's Sam that's in the way.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.  
FRACTURED. 

On returning from Scotland Malcolm still felt angry. Pent up. The pain in his chest still there. Nothing Sam could do seemed to soothe him. It affected her deeply. Made her feel low and out of sorts. She valiantly attempted to rally herself, and tentatively suggested an early night. 

Malcolm lay on his back. One arm flung up, covering his eyes. The other hand clutching the bed sheet, bunching the material into his fist. 

Lost in sensation. 

In ecstasies.

Above him he could feel and hear Sam's soft movements, the mattress sinking at his side, as she knelt there, touching him.

No shirt. Still wearing his jeans, belt unbuckled, zip undone, her hand down inside his underwear. 

She was leaning across his bare torso, the tip of her tongue teasing a nipple mercilessly, as his chest rose and fell beneath her, little groans coming from him periodically. 

Cupping is balls now, then gently under and behind them.....making him gasp. 

Raising himself at the hips, the better to feel the sensation. 

It was an accident that she pressed across the rim of his anus, her fingers parting his arse cheeks roughly, but the reaction was immediate. 

He flinched. 

Crying out, a yelp of sudden fear and indignation. The blissful countenance instantly gone. 

Wide eyed. Angry. Trying to raise himself up and away from her, pushing her hand away. 

"FUCK!" 

"Malcolm! I'm so sorry........"

"Shit! Shit!" 

It was as if a button had been pressed. Transporting him back through the years. 

"You can't do that......you can't touch me there.......not like that......FUCK!" 

"I didn't mean to.....you lifted yourself up, and my hand slid too far back........Malcolm, I wouldn't ever do anything to you that would cause you pain, not on purpose......surely you know that." 

It was too late. This had been building for days. Seething resentment, fury, and now, horrible memories. A panic attack gripped him. Such as she hadn't seen for a very long time.  
Blanched white. Sweating. Breath coming in short bursts through the mouth, his cheeks puffing out, then sucking in. Holding his chest with one hand. 

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" 

Jumping down from the bed, Sam ran to fetch him some water. 

He sipped it, holding the tumbler in a hand that trembled uncontrollably.

Setting the glass aside, she sat down next to him. 

"Can I hold you?" She asked kindly, devastated at what she'd done. 

He shook his head violently to the negative, still clutching at his sternum. 

"Feel sick......" He managed to splutter out. 

"I'll get you a basin." 

Running down the stairs Sam began to cry. Couldn't hold it in, by the time she reached his side again she was sobbing. 

"Malc, please forgive me.......I'm so so sorry........"

Malcolm took the bowl from her without even noticing her tears nor acknowledging her words, holding it beneath his chin, leaning forwards over it.  
Still breathing in short pants, struggling to control himself. 

"Is there nothing I can say or do?" Her hand circled on his back gently, as he retched a couple of times but nothing came up. 

"Yeah. Leave me alone. Just stay the fuck away." 

_"Oh Malcolm!"_

She sobbed all the harder. Desolate that her actions, whether meant or not, should have reduced him to this, from a state of such deep and delicious arousal, to a gibbering wreck. Apparently furious with her. 

Hanging her head she stumbled blindly out of the room. 

Cried for half an hour. Unable to stop. Weeping into her hands as she sat alone on the sofa downstairs. 

Glancing up suddenly at the sound of a footstep, she found that Malcolm was standing beside her, looking down. 

"Sam. I'm okay. Alright? I know you didn't mean it. Sorry I reacted that way, and I'm sorry I was shit to you.....it just all came flooding out......sorry I lashed out, I couldn't stop it." 

"I feel so horrible. How could I do that to you? But it was an accident......I swear to God......oh Malcolm....please don't punish me for this.....I feel so utterly utterly shite as it is. I just want to crawl away and die." 

He knelt down, one hand on her knee. 

"It's all been a bit raw lately. Everything. Can't control it. Been on my mind a lot, for some reason......and that's how HE used to start......with such tenderness, soft words, prayers almost. Before the Vaseline came out....." 

He stopped and swallowed heavily, as Sam broke into a paroxysm of sobs. 

"Oh God.......Malc." She wept. 

More than an hour passed. Wrapped around each other on the sofa. Both cried. They cried together. Clung to each other. Soothed each other.  
Then finally fell asleep. 

Sam never wanted him to let her go. Grateful that his arms were around her, that she was forgiven, still wanted. Still loved. 

But the sting remained. 

Would she now be afraid to touch him? In case it happened again?  
She felt as if she'd been bled dry of all emotion.  
Fragile and vulnerable. 

The feeling took days to leave her. 

Silent and listless. 

Malcolm admonished himself severely. His weakness. His hangups. His fault. 

He'd set her back. When she'd been doing so well. 

Such a stupid thing. Yet it haunted him still. Would he ever really be free? 

Normality. The one thing he craved. 

Was it never to be had? 

Yet he continued to shut her out. 

oOo

Ramsey the tabby tom cat was a therapist. The best. 

He knew instinctively when one or other of the couple was struggling.  
Initially he was imprinted onto Malcolm, like a chick to a mother hen, through his darkest times. Now his affections were transferred to Sam.  
Never left her side. Followed her everywhere, just as he had Malcolm when they'd first bought him home. 

If Sam was in the bath, Ramsey was sitting on the edge, dipping a lazy paw into the water. If she was in her little work room, the cat was asleep on her desk, draped across her keyboard.  
He would curl up beside her on the sofa or on the bed. Sit on her feet as she sat at the kitchen table.  
When Sam was crying, which she suddenly seemed to be doing quite frequently again, he would give a little chirrup of acknowledgment then rub his face against hers and tuck himself into her side, or wrap himself across her shoulders like a furry boa, purring softly and comfortingly. 

Friend of friends. 

Over those days, neither Malcolm nor Sam seemed able to talk. 

He seemed to drift away from her somehow. 

Tiptoeing around each other. Cursory exchanges. 

It was as if an invisible wedge had been driven between them. It was too much for Sam to bear. She could feel herself sinking again. 

Going through the motions. She knew she needed to remove herself from the situation. 

oOo

Then the phone call. From Greg. 

Peter Mannion had been arrested. 

The silence on the end of the line surprised even Fraser. He'd been expecting a whoop.

"You still there Malc?" 

"Yeah." 

"There'll be a trial. You may or may not be called, depending on the charges. I don't know what they are yet.....but I gather it's more to do with the Inquiry than your burglary.....I think Peter Mannion is cannon fodder Malcolm......sent in on the front line, to take a bullet for those higher up. He's expendable, and he will be sacrificed for the greater good." 

"Fuck!" 

Malcolm put down the phone and wandered into the kitchen. 

Sam was sitting at the table, dabbing her eyes with a tissue once more. 

"Malcolm." She began quietly. "I've been thinking......" 

"Oh?" His voice was challenging, he didn't mean it to sound that way, but it did. 

"I'd like to go to The States, visit Paul for a bit." She continued, barely audible and clearly doing her best to stifle new rising sobs. 

"We can't.......not for a while......there's going to be a t........" 

"No!" She interjected quickly. "Not with you.......by myself."

Malcolm heard the words but they didn't compute. 

"Eh?" He said. 

"I want to go alone." She confirmed. 

"WHAT? WHY? Why the fuck would you want to do that?" The volume rose. His face registering a dozen different emotions at once, hurt, pain, fear and anger. 

"Because I need to. I think some time apart might be good for us........" She whispered. 

"HOW DO YOU FUCKING WORK THAT OUT?" He shouted, flinging his hands in the air in exasperation. 

"Because I'm dog tired Malcolm. I'm tired and depressed and lonely. My life with you has become a desperate struggle for 'normality', a normality that constantly eludes us. That I'm not sure even exists. We lurch from one trauma and disaster to another......the things we talked about......with such hope, that I looked forward to so much, before the Inquiry......they are as far away now as they ever were." 

"Fuck me......so you're bailing.......?" 

She looked up at him in despair.

"The time is NEVER going to be right Malcolm. Especially for you. You're too scared for whatever reason.  
There is always going to be some huge brick wall standing in the way of our future.....together......be it your past, or my past, your notoriety, the media, the Inquiry backlash, a trial here, a newspaper exclusive there.......always obstacles.....and I can't do it anymore......at least not at the moment. I'm not strong enough. The other day was a case in point......you told me to leave you the fuck alone....."

"But fuck me Sam......I apologised.....it was in the heat of the moment.....I......."

"Let me finish......" She cut him off. "It was as if the last two years had been wiped out in an instant. There was hatred in your eyes when you looked at me that day. It totally slayed me. You pushed me away, then we've been walking on egg shells ever since.....I can't take it Malcolm. Never knowing. Never moving forward. I need to get away from the toxic atmosphere before it destroys me......us.......I'm worn out with waiting, trying to hold myself together......and I feel that if I don't do something soon I'll end up finishing myself." 

Malcolm was pacing the floor. As she'd seen him do so many times in the office in the past. 

"So! You're really serious? You want to leave me? Just walk away?" 

Then suddenly a horrible realisation hit him.

"Fuck.....I always knew this would happen. Who am I fucking trying to kid?  
Well! That's it then. On you go. I won't fucking stop you.....coz I know exactly how it'll be.....I can see it all now......you'll go over there.....and you won't come back.  
First of all there'll be an excuse to stay a bit longer.....then there'll be the _'it's not you Malcolm, it's me'_ sentence. Then gradually you'll stop calling, or texting.....you'll meet a nice guy, someone your own age......and you'll realise what you've been missing all this time....how much nicer it is with Him, instead of the shite you get with me.......and it'll be over.......FUCKING HELL!  
I can't believe this is happening.......what a fucking fool I am.....that this is what my life has come down to........FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

He picked up a cup and hurled it. It hit the tiled wall and smashed into a thousand pieces. Making Sam almost jump out of her skin, then he saw her cower down. 

She was afraid of him. 

Ramsey hissed angrily at the perpetrator. His hackles risen, teeth bared. 

Her look floored him completely. Stabbed him to the core. Because he'd seen that look before, from his own mother.  
When his father came home drunk and belligerent. 

She remained silent. Sniffling periodically. 

At that moment Malcolm wanted to fall on his knees at her feet. Beg and plead. Tell her how desperately he loved her and that he couldn't possibly live without her. That he knew he'd been difficult lately and he didn't know why.  
Ask her to stay with him forever, be his wife. His partner for always. 

He did none of those things. 

Instead he went into shutdown. As he so often had in his miserable lifetime. Closed off his mind.

So this was really it. The thing he'd dreaded right from the very start but had convinced himself time and time again would never happen.  
Because Sam was his......  
........no......he belonged to her. 

Heart and soul.

The reason he'd been so nervous of being with her in the first place, would never have acted on his feelings for her........had she not invited him to her place that fateful night, when he'd finally caved in to what he could no longer deny. Either to himself or her. 

What a sap!

Struggling all along, to believe nothing could ever force them apart, and they'd been through far worse than this. Yet this had been the catalyst.  
The final straw.....apparently. 

Malcolm felt physically ill. His head throbbed, he had palpitations. His mind seemed to just freeze.  
Solid.  
The thought of his home......without Sam in it.......his bed, without her at his side......waking alone, eating alone, a situation he was so frighteningly familiar with, but thought he'd left behind him forever.  
Shit.....he didn't even have work to fling himself into anymore. 

Accustomed to her companionship, her warmth.....

Her love. 

How could he be without that now? It would kill him. 

Nausea rose up in his throat. Then red hot anger. Burning him. Frying his brain. Seething at the injustice of it all. 

How could she even suggest this? How could being apart possibly do anything other than make them become more and more separated? 

The States? 

Thousands of miles away. She couldn't put much more distance between them if she tried. 

He wanted to scream, beat his fists and cry. 

Instead, he was meek. Almost accepting. 

"Well, if it's what you really want........" 

As he said the words, he thought she was going to pass out. She seemed to stagger slightly, clutching the edge of the table as she rose. Her eyes giving a little jolt of surprise as he spoke. 

"What do _you_ think?" She said quietly. 

"I can't think. All I want is what's best for you.....I don't want you to stay if you don't want to.....if it's 'toxic'....if it's making you as unhappy as you seem to be......if I'M making you as unhappy as you seem to be......I don't know what to say to you anymore......nothing makes fucking sense......I can't even form a coherent thought........I just feel.......feel.........rage.....like the life force has just leeched out of me.......I don't know what to do.......I love you Sam.........truly.....I do........more than I've ever loved anyone, ever.......and I'm making you miserable........so I feel like a cunt, and it hurts more than I can possibly say.  
I always said you'd break yourself trying to save me, and I was right. It's happened. I've broken you. Like I break everyone close to me, in the end. Because I'm poison.  
So, it's best that you leave, while you can still salvage a vestige of your life......I want nothing but for you to be happy Sam.......nothing......."

"You really are an idiot Malcolm Tucker......you know that? A total and complete prat." 

She walked from the room, and into her own little den. Door closed quietly behind her.

He could hear her on the phone. 

Couldn't move. Frozen to the spot. Trembling violently.

When she returned some while later her face was white. Jaw set. 

"I've spoken to my brother. It's settled. I leave tomorrow. There's a flight at ten. I'm on it. By the way......what was the phone call earlier?" 

"Doesn't matter. It was nothing." He replied numbly. 

Without a word she turned away, mounting the stairs slowly. 

Moments later he could hear her sobbing as if her heart would break. 

From his pocket, Malcolm took his phone. Dialled. Almost blinded with his own tears. His hand shook.

"Nancy? It's me." 

"Malcolm? Whatever's the matter? You sound odd....."

"Nancy......please come......I need you......" 

"Oh God! What is it? What's happened?" 

"Sam's leaving......."

"WHAT? WHY?.....Malcolm what the hell have you done?" 

"Please come sis.......please...."

"Malcolm....I'll sort out the kids with Mac and his mam.......don't worry.....I'll be there tomorrow afternoon......sooner if I can.....okay? I'm on my way......we'll talk then.......is Sam there? Can I speak to her?" 

"She's upstairs. Packing. She going to America......." A strangled sob left him. 

"For fucks sake Malc......TALK TO HER!! Make her change her mind! Tell her what she means to you......" 

"But I'm making her miserable.....she told me so......how can I persuade her to continue putting up with that? She's done well to last this long......I'm so fucked up Nance, eventually I fuck up everything around me......" 

"Oh Jesus Christ! Brother......what am I to do with you? You have to stop her......don't let her leave.....at least until I can get there......you must just ask her to think about it.....not make a rash decision like this......oh fuck it all I wish I was there now, I'd knock your silly heads together!" 

"She's already thought about it. She told me. I have to do the right thing Nance. Let her go. It's not fair to make her stay with me. She deserves to be happy......she deserves better than me......someone who isn't complicated and damaged and an irredeemable mess, someone who can give her what she needs........"

"Good god Malcolm.....when I see you I'm going to punch you in the head! She loves you......YOU'RE what she needs.....can't you see that? But you keep stalling, finding a reason not to commit.....there'll always be a good reason why you shouldn't! ALWAYS!  
I told you....don't wait too much longer.....I said that to you.....didn't I?"

"Help me Nance.....I'm drowning here....."

"Malcolm Tucker.....if you let that girl go, you'll never see her again. Now grow some fucking balls, go upstairs......and TALK TO HER!! NOW!!"


	20. Six Degrees of Separation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right or wrong, Sam is on her way to the US. 
> 
> Leaving Malcolm distraught.
> 
> There's a tiny homage to Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre in there somewhere. Blink and you'll miss it, but it's true for them as it was for Jane and Mr Rochester.

CHAPTER TWENTY.  
SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION.

Sam listened to Malcolm impassively. Crying throughout. 

He wanted to hold her, kiss her, make love to her. She wanted none of those things.  
Malcolm was always good at being physically demonstrative, but that wasn't what she needed right now. 

She needed words. Assurances. They were not forthcoming. 

Neither went to bed that night.

The more Sam cried, the more Malcolm convinced himself that simply being with him was the root cause of her misery.  
He'd failed to prove himself. 

To go down on his knees now would be Malcolm Tucker saying what he thought she wanted to hear, in order to persuade her to stay. 

It wasn't right, and it wouldn't wash. 

A horrible trancelike state came over him. Numbness and disbelief. 

She was actually going to go through with it. Didn't think she had it in her. To walk out of the door. 

But she did. 

At seven sharp a cab duly arrived. 

Silently he bought her case downstairs into the hall. 

"Sam?" He stood next to her in the passageway, unsure whether to hug her, or even touch her at all. Lest she flinch away from him and his heart would break. 

She raised her red, swollen eyes to look into his. He forced himself to speak. 

"I've no right to ask anything of you......I know that.......but......" 

"Ask." She whispered, so softly he hardly caught it. A sudden spring of hope in her face. 

"Will you promise me something.......?" 

"What?" The moment vanished. She visibly diminished, shrinking down. The face became stern, almost hard. Such as he'd never seen in her before. All her calm serenity gone. 

"Promise me you'll come back.........please......." The final plea was hissed through closed teeth as tears coursed down his face.

"That depends......" She replied, her gaze fixed firmly upon him. 

"......on you. And what you decide. I have to do this Malcolm. For me. As well as for you. You need space. Time to think about what it is you really want. You can't do that when I'm here with you all the time. Because when I'm here you expect me to be a permanent fixture, with no guarantees, come what may.......that I'll just carry on.......stumbling from one day to the next, until you make up your mind to either run and hide, to reject me and push me away, or to move forwards......and it's killing me. Sucking me dry.  
I thought that you and I were singing from the same hymn sheet. Turns out that's not the case.  
I can't live like that anymore. The pain is too much to bear. So I'm doing the only thing I can do......giving you the room you need. Goodbye Malcolm. Take good care of yourself.......for me......okay?" 

"At least let me know you're there safe......text me or ring me.....or something.....please Sam....please......." 

His hands were gripping her forearms now, the fingers digging into her flesh. 

"I love you Malcolm. I always will." She choked. Then bent quickly to retrieve her bags, rushing past him, wrenching free of his grip, hurrying down the path to the waiting taxi. 

"SAM! SAM! PLEASE!" He cried, dashing after her. 

But she was inside. Door closed, the car pulling away just as he reached the door handle. 

"NO!" He yelled. 

Her last glimpse of him was standing on the kerb, one fist jammed into his mouth, staring manically after her as the car pulled away. 

oOo

Paul Cassidy hardly recognised the shadow of a woman who was once his sister, as she stumbled towards him, dragging her wheelie suitcase across the Arrivals lounge. 

In a state of collapse. 

Thin. Pale. Exhausted. Overwrought.

Between himself and Gretchen, his girlfriend, they took her arms. Barely able to stand let alone function. 

Once at his home, they put her straight to bed. 

Paul texted Malcolm's phone. 

_"You complete fucking cunt. You promised me! Faithfully! You'd take care of her. You are an utter selfish bastard and next time I see you I'll punch your fucking teeth in for what you've done to my sister."_

He received no reply. 

During the next fortnight he watched his sibling slowly and inexorably fall apart. Wounded and raw. A weeping trembling wreck. With virtually no concept of time. 

Sitting on the bed, staring at a little photo of her man, which she'd packed carefully in her case. Her thumb rubbing gently over his face. 

She didn't leave the house. Neither eating nor sleeping much. Constantly crying. Listless and detached. 

Barely able to speak or even convey the simplest of feelings. One word responses, nods or shakes of the head were all, she seemed capable of.

He tried to talk to her, they both did. But the only reaction they received was in the form of tears.  
At night she would cry out constantly for Malcolm into the darkness. 

Empty and bereft. 

Her day's merged into one long trial of suffering. 

Gretchen cared for her with infinite patience and diligence. 

Eventually her worried brother consulted a doctor, who recommended hospitalisation, although he did not consider her a possible danger to herself. 

Sam refused. 

Although she reluctantly accepted that perhaps she needed medication. Once procured, however, she refused to take it. It was duly flushed down the toilet in the dead of night. 

Texts from Malcolm became more and more frantic. But she was too ill to reply. 

Her phone bombarded with messages from Laura and Jamie too. 

Neither Sam nor Paul knew it, but Gretchen took the phone and copied Malcolm's number. She sent a message to him, explaining the situation. She felt he was owed that at least.  
The sorrowful reply she received convinced her further and she began sending Malcolm a daily update. His responses were that of a man adrift in the desert, desperate for water. Thirsting for any drip of precious information. Grateful for even the smallest trickle. 

It was another week before Sam finally emerged from her carapace. Still robotic, but at least able to take note of the world around her. 

Shattered and desolate. 

Seated at the kitchen table. 

"Talk to me sis......tell me how you feel, what happened.....if you can." 

"There's not a moment of any day when I don't think of him......" She replied shakily. 

".......what he must be going through I can't even begin to think. I promised I'd contact him......" 

"Fuck him and what HE'S going through! What about you for Christ's sake?" 

"Don't Paul.......please don't! Don't judge him like that......you don't know him, not really."

"I know enough to be sure he's a total bastard. And he doesn't fucking deserve you. Or your concern OR your love......he's playing with you, stringing you along.......how can you defend him?" 

Sam raised her eyes, holding his angry glare steadily. 

"Because I love him, Paul." 

"Well, all I can say is that he's a fucking lucky sod! And he doesn't deserve your love....what he deserves is to have his nuts in a vice......and I want to be the one twisting the fucking lever!" 

"But you don't understand. I ache for him Paul. Inside my chest....." She clutched both hands to her breast. "......there's a string......and it's fixed to a similar string inside him......we are kindred spirits......we are attached......deeply.....I need him like I need air to breathe. We belong........"

"Then why the fuck are you here? Or why the fuck isn't he here now? Begging you to come home......where is he Sam? Where? Eh?"

"I'm here because he needed to realise what we are. The value of what we have. He won't come here, because he believes I'm doing this for myself. Breaking away from him. Forging a new life. He wants what he thinks is best for me.  
He's never felt he was good enough. Always waiting for the day I told him I'd had enough. While I was living with him he'd be happy to continue just as we were. Just jogging along. He's afraid. He's scared of the future. It's the first time he's even HAD a future to face. It terrifies him. He doesn't know how to deal with it. He wants it but he can't bring himself to reach out and grab it. I had to make him see.....understand......somehow. He hurt me deeply, when he pushed me away......but it wasn't so much that I touched him wrongly.......it only triggered because he's so frightened. And when he's cornered he lashes out. I'm just hoping he'll come to see.....if he doesn't.......well......if he doesn't, I don't know what I'll do........but, oh God Paul......I miss him so much......every waking hour......I feel like I'm dying. Sometimes I even think I hear him calling......it's unbearable." 

Another long week passed. 

Gretchen came to sit with Sam in the evening. Her brother was out with friends. 

"Sam, I need you to see something....." 

From under her arm she produced an English newspaper, the Daily Express. Two days old. 

_"Mannion Trial enters second week._ "

Beneath the headline a picture of Malcolm leaving the court house. Nancy at his side. He was looking down. A gaunt face of pain and anguish. 

"Oh my God!" She gasped. Clamping a hand across her mouth. "He looks ghastly." 

Drawn and thin. Deathly pale. Dark circles beneath his eyes. 

Much as she looked herself. 

The article latched on to the fact that she was not there with him, that the woman accompanying him was his sister. Where was Miss Cassidy? Had she finally seen sense? 

It also nastily bought attention to the fact that he'd received two huge cash payouts over the last two years. Clearly he didn't spend the money on his appearance. Perhaps his ' _Faithful PA'_ had finally realised that money wasn't everything.

It was horrible. 

"How dare they?" She cried in horror. "Hasn't he suffered enough? WE.....they've made our lives hell."

She turned to Gretchen, who's own eyes were full of tears. 

"He gave all that money from the Mirror to charity." She spat angrily. "He did it secretly, on condition they didn't publicise it or name him. It was the NAPAC organisation, for people abused in childhood.....because they helped him so much. He's a good man Gretchen....in spite of what everyone thinks."

"He's been attending the trial every day, Sam. Listen Sam.......I have a confession to make......" 

"What is it?" Her eyes became wild and frightened. 

"I've been in regular contact with Malcolm. Every day since the first week you were here. I've been letting him know how you're doing. I'm sorry if that was wrong, but I saw his messages on your phone. So I took the number.......messaged him back. This trial.....it's been hellish......you've no idea what's come out.......it must be horrendous for him....he's right in amongst it yet again.....please forgive me?"

Sam closed her fingers over the other woman's arm and squeezed gently, to reassure. 

"I'm glad." She gave a tiny smile. "But he must have known about this before I left......" She was staggered, welling up as she thought of her lover. "Why on earth didn't he say?" 

"I suspect it's because he didn't want to influence your decision not to leave. Use it as leverage. Because he thought you should go......that he didn't deserve you and that he was making you miserable....he doesn't think he's good enough for you....he never has......but never doubt Sam, he loves you so much......he's confided as much to me....." 

Sam rose and began to pace the floor, wringing her hands. Sobs wracking her body. 

"But this is absolutely terrible.....I should be there......at his side.....supporting him......I must go home Gretchen.....now! Straight away.......I must go back......he needs me......" 

She turned and bolted up the stairs. 

Her soon to be sister in law following in her wake. 

"Sam......wait......you can't just up and.....you've not been well......" 

Samantha Cassidy was like a whirling dervish, suitcase flung open on the bed, manically stuffing her belongings into it, ripping clothes from drawers, emptying toiletries into plastic bags. 

"I have to go home Gretchen.......you saw the state of him......how can I stay away? He needs me......I love him.......no matter what......I love him.....we should be together......oh God.......what have I done? I'm coming Malcolm.....I'm coming home.....I have to get back to you......."


	21. Broken.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is alone. 
> 
> Sam is gone. 
> 
> Meltdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a tough chapter. 
> 
> Malcolm is in a state. 
> 
> Please don't read if this kind of thing is triggering to you.
> 
> (There are direct references here to the chapter Escape From Hades in the Shitstorm story.)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.  
BROKEN.

Standing on the kerb. Staring blankly as the car disappeared around the corner. 

Still there five minutes later. 

Turning then, stumbling back to the house, closing the door behind him. Malcolm slid down onto his knees, then leaned gradually forward until his forehead touched the wooden floor. Arms folded backwards over his head. 

The howl he gave was that of a wounded animal. He knew the sound was coming from him but he couldn't make it stop. 

Unsure of how long he stayed there. A grey mist in front of his eyes. Crawling to the kitchen, pulling himself upright.

Amber liquid slopping as he poured a large tumbler. Hand shaking so much it spilled over onto the counter. A burn of fire in his throat. 

Kept refilling that glass and swallowing it down, until he could no longer stand. 

Cold tiles on the kitchen floor. Almost a relief. Ramsey mewing plaintively near to his head. 

If he could just close his eyes it would go away. He would wake and find it all a dream. 

Hours seemed to pass in a haze of horrific memories, each one more vivid and horribly real than the last, bestial sounds coming from him that he couldn't recognise. 

Room spinning, on a merry-go-round.

In the back of his fuddled brain, dimly aware of a frantic knocking. 

Too far gone to move. Or stop the flashback. 

Flickering candle light. The flame fanned by a draft from somewhere. Yet it was broad daylight, wasn't it? 

What was that smell? 

Incense. 

Was he in church? Fuck! Surely not. 

_"Bless me Father, for I have sinned......"_

Invisible hands pawing him, pulling at his clothes. Whilst all the while he cried and tried to fend off his phantom attacker. 

_"Holy Mary Mother of God.......pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our death......"_

Everything in darkness now, except for a single shaft of orange sunlight on the floor nearby, he lay there watching it move, dust motes floating and dancing before his blurred vision. 

He retched as he felt a burning pain, right up inside him. Arching his back against it, he vomited, unable to hold it back. Spattering the floor around him and his clothes. 

His chest hurt, a searing kernel of fire, clutching at himself with a fist as his breathing began to become increasingly erratic. Panic seized him, even in his fuzzy delirium.

What the fuck was happening to him? Was he going to die? The thought filtered, settled, and rather appealed to him. 

Breaking into his addled mind came a tone which struck dread into his very soul. 

_"You are bad child, you must be severely punished......_ " The voice seemed to come from within, echoing around inside his head.

"No! No!" He gasped. "Please leave me alone.....SAM! SAM!" He cried out in vain. Holding the sides of his head, hands clamped over his ears, as if to prevent it from splitting asunder. 

Sinking down again onto his side, unable to bear it, bringing his knees up, a light ahead of him which seemed to diminish to a pinprick. Swirling with a grey fog. 

oOo

He woke with a lurch from another hateful and disturbing dream, filled with all the terrors he could possibly imagine. 

Asleep in is own sick. 

Hands were turning him, lifting him, familiar voices, entreating, strained and urgent.

"Oh Jesus Christ! MALCOLM?........Jamie, quickly, help me sit him up......" 

"Malcolm? MALCOLM!" Fingers were thrust roughly into his mouth. "He's okay, he's okay.....he's breathing.......Malcolm, sweetie? Wake up. Come back!" 

A hand slapping at his cheek firmly, as his eyes rolled forward from the back of his head.  
Leaden eyelids were prised open. Blinding light which made him wince and try to wrestle fruitlessly to be free. 

Cool water placed at his lips, trickling down his chin and onto his defiled shirt. The liquid soothed his dry and crusted mouth, Ambrosia from the Gods. He sipped a second time, then coughed violently. Grappling to push away both hand and cup. 

' _Just leave me be. Let me vanish into the ether and be no more_ ', his brain screamed. 

His head lolled back. Slipping away. 

"Malcolm! Don't you fucking DARE! Stay with me.....wake up!!" 

Hauling him back, forcing him to struggle upwards. 

Like a drowning man breaking the surface of the rolling sea, a rush of breath, a gasp, and he was back in the room. 

"Malcolm? Oh thank God!" 

"Let's get him upstairs......." 

Carried. 

In strong arms. Between two people. 

"Should we call an ambulance?" Jamie puffed as he laid his friend onto the bed. 

"No need....we'll clean him up, watch over him, make sure he's not sick again, he'll be okay once he's slept it off.....fucking idiot!" 

oOo

Hours without measure. 

Slowly the bloodshot eyes opened. Fluttering, his first sight that of his own eyelashes.  
Scratchy lids, filled with what felt like grit. The room swam and phased in and out as he struggled to make out where he was. 

Bedroom. 

His own.

In clean clothes. 

Remembering nothing. 

Reflected in the mirror on the dressing table, a robe, hanging on the back of the door, it looked like a menacing hooded priest, one arm outstretched towards him. He covered his eyes, attempting to block out the spectre.  
No strength to fight, or run, nothing he could do but surrender to the inevitable, he resigned himself, waiting for the onslaught, but nothing came. 

Muted light from a single lamp. Curtains drawn. Silence. 

He moaned pitifully, rubbing distractedly at his face. 

A rustle of movement, a balloon like visage looming into view. From a chair beside the bed where it had been, apparently dozing. It floated close, into his field of vision.  
Features indistinct. Everything appearing to him as if through a web of gauze. 

He tried to sit up. 

"Sam?" He asked the empty shape.

Didn't recognise his own voice, cracked and raw as it was. A gravel harshness almost inaudible. 

"It's me Malc, Nancy. How are you doing?" 

The sound of a voice he knew. The accent familiar. Sinking back into the pillows with a groan. 

"Shite." He croaked, the only reply he could manage. 

A cool flannel was placed across his throbbing forehead, an arm placed around his neck and shoulder to help him sit forwards.

"Drink this." 

The tone was firm yet kindly, the arm insistent. 

He obeyed. Tiny mouthfuls. A taste of salt, reminiscent of sea water, a slight effervescence, fizzing on his tongue. It made him choke. 

The glass was taken away, although his lips followed it, wanting more. Patting and rubbing his back, between the shoulder blades, until the coughing fit left him and he breathed normally again. 

"You frightened the fucking crap out of me, you arse, I thought you were dead." 

The words came out in a rush and a flurry of weeping, shaking him angrily, almost making him rattle. 

"I couldn't get in.....I had to call Jamie.....lucky he had a spare key.....I was frantic Malcolm, every second I waited could have been.......have been........I could see your legs....through the letterbox......don't you ever do that to me again! You stupid fucking sod! Do you hear?!" 

He was enveloped in a crushing hug. Hot wetness against his face, the tears of brother and sister meeting and mingling. 

"She's gone Nance......." 

A painful whining cry almost like a wailing siren, beginning in his throat and gathered momentum until it became sobs of utter desolation. 

Chest heaving, as the painful realisation hit him anew, his ribs burning with a soreness as if he'd been hit by a truck. She rocked him gently, side to side, stroking his hair.

"Whisht! Shhh!" As if he were a small child. 

oOo

Every room contained a memory. 

Wandering them aimlessly. 

A bottle of perfume. Hairbrush. A stray sock in the washing machine would have him in tears. 

Spent an hour or more at a time locked in the bathroom.....Nancy listening occasionally at the door. 

"Malc? You okay in there?" 

She knew why he did it......to be alone. Did the same as a boy. Back then he would hide under the bed, or out in the privy, to get away from everyone and to be by himself. 

To grieve. Lick his wounds. 

He grieved now as he grieved then.....shut away. 

Nancy would find him sitting in Sam's den. The place they'd decorated for her together. 

Curled up on the chair. His long legs folded under him. With the cat. 

Everything was just as she'd left it. Nothing touched. 

Thumbing through a large photo album. Over and over again. His Christmas present from her. 

He could fall asleep at any given moment during the day, only to pace the floor for most of the night. 

Taking a T shirt of hers to bed with him, because it smelled of her. As he had done when she'd stayed with him the very first time. It offered little comfort. 

Each time he closed his eyes she was there. Her voice, her face, her touch on his skin.  
An unquenchable thirst. It was unbearable. Wanting so badly to reach out and touch her, but as he did so she would melt away, like smoke on the breeze. 

Watching the hours on the bedside clock, as they ticked inexorably onwards towards morning. With the daylight there would be a modicum of relief. 

Dragging himself wearily downstairs. Shuffling along the hall in robe and slippers. An old grey man. Hunched over. Not shaving. Not dressing. 

His stomach would accept very little. Tea. Toast. A little porridge. 

Anything more was instantly and spectacularly rejected.

Accompanied by a constant debilitating headache. Like a permanent hangover. 

He could concentrate on nothing. The television hurt his eyes. Unable to read. To focus. 

Woolly and distracted. Checked his phone a hundred times a day. Nothing. 

Sent numerous desperate text messages. 

Nancy was there for him every step of the way. But even she needed to close her eyes at some point. 

Jamie stayed overnight several times, to give her a break and allow her to get some sleep, since there was no rest to be had with him. Nights were just as torturous for both siblings.  
His sister would doze off, only to be woken by her brother shuffling about in the dark. 

Sometimes half asleep. Looking for something he seemed to have misplaced. 

She hid the Scotch, and all the other booze she could find, lest he should repeat his previous binge. 

On the rare occasions he did manage to nod off, he would wake shortly, crying out, not small whimpers but loud and terrified yelling.  
Sweating and confused. Clutching at his chest in panic. The sheets soaked with perspiration and in need of changing, at three in the morning. 

The ping of his phone. 

Snatching it up. A tiny glimmer of hope. 

But it was not Sam's picture popping up on his screen. It wasn't from her. His face fell. 

Scrolling with trembling hands. Nancy watching him fearfully. A message. From an unknown number.  
The words so blurred, couldn't read them, passing the phone into her outstretched hand. 

"Who the fuck is it?" 

She read aloud what Gretchen had written. 

_"Malcolm. Please forgive me, I hope Sam will too. She doesn't know I have your number. But she's distraught, and in no fit state to contact you. So I'm taking it upon myself. Please know she's safe, we are taking good care of her and I'll send you an update every day. I promise. It's not much but it's all I can do, I feel so helpless. All I know for certain, whatever's happened between you two, is that she loves you. Hang in there. Gretchen. Xxx"_

Malcolm wept inconsolably for an hour. 

It took him another hour to compose a reply. He pressed _'send'._ Then took himself off to bed. 

He slept for ten hours solid. 

oOo

The trial began. 

A double trial. 

That of Peter Mannion MP and that of Malcolm Tucker. 

The one Criminal, the other mental and physical. 

He attended every day. Stoic. His face a mask. 

Trussed up in a scarf and long black overcoat. Nancy at his side. 

His presence caused as much of a sensation as the main event. Cameras in his face every time he appeared. Questions fired at him from all sides.  
As he arrived in the morning and left each afternoon he was surrounded. 

Fighting his way through them all. Head down. No eye contact. No comment. 

Seated in the public gallery, since he had not been called, nor asked to give evidence. 

Staring straight ahead the whole time. Steely eyes fixed upon the defendant. An intense glare that would melt base metal at ten paces. 

Listening intently to the proceedings. His face impassive, unreadable. 

As the days passed and evidence was presented, it became clear to Malcolm that Mannion was almost as much a scapegoat as he had been himself. 

He had been used and manipulated, but had desperately sought to protect himself when he realised the shit was about to hit the fan. 

The difference between them was that Mannion had skeletons in his closet he wished to remain hidden, Malcolm had none. 

Alastair Leyton was first to give evidence regarding the phone call he'd received from the MP. 'Leaking the leak' in a panic when he heard that Mr Tickel's medical records were now public knowledge. It was not clear at that moment from where the original leak came, but it was certain Mannion thought it was someone from his own party.  
Examination of both man's phone and text records confirmed it. 

Bank statements revealed certain sums of money moving in and out. When questioned about these regular amounts of cash, he was unable to give a satisfactory explanation, wriggling and stammering, saying he couldn't remember, trying not to give an answer. 

The Prosecuting Counsel let rip.  
It transpired he'd been threatened with the exposure of his love affair, and knowing that since he'd already been pilloried politically for a similar indiscretion, which had led to the birth of a child, Peter Mannion was painfully aware that his days would be numbered were the information to get out. He also knew it would spell the end of his marriage. There was only so much that Tina could forgive. He had no choice but to do as he was told. 

It didn't matter too much to his superiors, if he were to be exposed for the philandering shite that he undoubtedly was. He was expendable, he'd been around too long. A dinosaur, with young guns the like of Fergus Williams poised in the wings to step into his shoes. 

The sight of his wife of twenty five years, Tina, weeping quietly from her place in the gallery, a few seats from where Malcolm sat, was a sorry one indeed. 

He finally caved when the photograph taken by Malcolm's PI, Jim Lawrence at St Pancras station was shown as 'exhibit A'. Knew the game was finally up. 

Malcolm leaned forwards slightly in his seat. His eyes glittering. The only shred of emotion he showed. 

The Met Police had done their work. Careful surveillance and following paper trails paid off. 

The next witness called to the dock was the man himself. Mr Derek Williamson. House breaker extraordinaire. Available for hire, at the right price.  
Paid to break into the home of a certain Mr Malcolm Tucker. 

An audible gasp rang around the onlookers in the courtroom.  
Nancy threaded her arm through that of her brother and squeezed tight. His only reaction was to touch a tiny scar on his lip momentarily, his mouth set into a hard thin line. 

The prosecution, however, did not pursue the break in or the paltry details of the PFI procurement notes, which Mannion was clearly desperate to acquire and suppress. He had bigger fish to fry. 

His main revelation was still to come. When it became evident that the trail of payments found in his bank account lead back to the offshore account of none other than the Home Secretary.

Corruption involving the highest echelons of the Cabinet. 

It caused an absolute sensation. 

Malcolm's dirt files also contained a juicy story of the Home Secretary himself. Evidence that he'd accepted bungs to put through high level and controversial planning applications. A nice little earner. Giving him a fat account in The Cayman Islands, first class travel, private school for his children, amongst other perks. It was this evidence that provided the main focus. 

When the robbery failed, it became necessary to remove Malcolm from the equation completely, neutralise him, make him the whipping boy, discrediting him so thoroughly that he would never be taken seriously again. The timely advent of the Inquiry saved them the trouble of thinking of a way to do that. If Peter Mannion could be the thrown to the wolves at the same time......all well and good. 

The DoSAC minister was quite right to suspect the original leak came from his own side. 

It did. 

The PA in the Home Secretaries office had tried to unsuccessfully delete certain incriminating emails. Fortunately they were still liftable from her computer hard drive. 

Next to be examined were Matthew Hodge and Simon Weir. Mannion's ex school friends from Harrow. 

Another reason why it was the MP who was chosen to be the puppet. He possessed influential public school friends who could be 'persuaded' to do as they were asked, for a substantial monetary reward. 

Malcolm rose, and sidling along the row between the benches, he left the courtroom. 

He'd heard enough. 

So, now he knew.........the whole Goolding Inquiry, which he himself had pushed for to highlight the government's incompetence, had been convened, not primarily to look into the death of Mr Tickel......that unfortunate man's suicide was just a timely happenstance, it was the Home Secretary himself who encouraged the PM to widen the scope of the Inquiry to include the whole culture of leaking, and therefore serve his own purposes admirably.  
Carefully orchestrated from the very beginning, the panel primed with their line of questioning with the express purpose of incriminating Malcolm, bringing him down in spectacular fashion, deflecting blame away from the Government, and if Mannion managed to emerge cleanly, fine, if he didn't......well......that's the way the cookie crumbles! He could fall on his own sword. 

The final twist of the knife was the picture printed of Malcolm in the Daily Mirror, which Angela Heaney had found to have been clearly doctored.  
Jason Timmings, the photographer was discovered to be the son of John Timmings QC who happened to play at the same Golf Club as Simon Weir. 

The circle was complete.

Although Malcolm wasn't in court to see and hear that final exposé.

He didn't care anymore. He no longer gave a fuck about anything. 

The following day would be the summing up. 

Malcolm wasn't even sure he'd be there. He had no wish to gloat over his former adversary. Once again his gaunt face was splashed across the front of all the newspapers. Banner headlines. 

Angela Heaney was in her office, preparing her latest article for publication. 

_"The Downfall of an Innocent Man."_


	22. Back to the Future.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm gets a shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the initial paragraph we jump back to Sam in America. We follow her home. And what she finds when she gets there. 
> 
>  
> 
> Then forwards again to the present. 
> 
> (In case anyone is confused!)
> 
> Below is Angela's mock up she would have sent Malcolm for approval. 
> 
>  

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.  
BACK TO THE FUTURE.

 

Malcolm put his key into the front door, letting himself in. Nancy close at his heels....ranting.

"Honestly! Three year suspended sentence and a fifty grand fine! It's a fucking travesty! They should have put him away! And what about his dodgy dealings, trying to get the PFI added to the Inquiry so he could screw over Nicola's husband....? That subject hardly even come up!" 

She began to pull off her coat in the hallway. Huffing crossly. 

"The stupid arse looked devastated though, I must say......I hear his wife is divorcing him. Too right! What that woman has had to put up with, I'd have shown him the door years ago! The Bastard!"

Malcolm stood quietly beside her, unbuttoning his own overcoat, his face pale and drawn, the relief of the trial being over had yet to sink in. He was desperately tired. 

"And your name was barely mentioned.....that burglary and all you went through.....what this has done to you.....both of you!" Her rant continued unabated.

"They had enough evidence to hang him without my tuppence worth. I'm glad they didn't call me. Thank God it's over. That's all I really care about." He muttered quietly. 

"You'll be all over the papers again! 'The Wronged Man!' Now they'll all be clamouring to say how fucking sorry they all are for you!" 

Walking towards the kitchen, Malcolm left her at the hall mirror, tidying her hair, calling louder, over his shoulder...."I don't give a fuck about him Nance!......I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANYTHING ANYMORE!" 

He entered, intending to put the kettle on. 

"I sincerely hope there's _something_ you still give a fuck about." Said a soft voice. 

There, seated on the stool in front of him, looking thin and weary, but more beautiful in his eyes than he had ever seen her, either waking or sleeping......

........was Sam. 

oOo

There were no flights available that day. Or the next. Or at least there were flights, but they were fully booked. 

In spite of Paul Cassidy's fears, Sam was adamant. 

She must return home. 

At least the delay gave them time to talk. 

He and Gretchen drove her to the airport together. 

"If you need to come back.....you know where we are......and you're always welcome here, you know that?" 

"I know it Paul. Thank you.....both of you.....for what you've done. I'll be alright." 

"Bugger it all! I wish I was as confident of that as you seem to be. I'm so worried about you Sam......and I don't trust that sod to take care of you.....look what a cock up he's made of it so far!" 

"I have to go back. I ran away Paul. Like Malcolm used to.....and I can't do that.....I have to face HIM......IT.....whatever 'it' turns out to be. If it doesn't work out, well......I'll let you know......or I'll return.......but I have to see him, I have to know he's okay.......we both need to talk......if nothing else. I love him, Paul. And I'm sure he loves me. Maybe the time he's had....we've had, will have made the difference. If I stay here I'll never know." 

"I bloody hope so!" 

oOo

The sense of anticipation was so intense. Almost terrifying. 

Once aboard, seat belt fastened, a lurch in her gut as she watched the East coast recede below her. Her forehead leaning against the cool window.  
Up into the cloud layer and beyond. 

Samantha Cassidy closed her eyes and leaned back as far as the seat would allow. 

'Please let it be alright.' She murmured to herself. 'Please Malcolm. Be glad to see me....I've missed you so much.'

The thought of seeing him again after these long and lonely weeks, filled her stomach with butterflies. She was so nervous of that first meeting, petrified to the point of distraction.  
How would he react when she knocked on his door?  
Would she be able to keep her emotions in check? Would she cry? What would she say to him? More to the point, what would HE say to her? Was his anger still there? So many questions.  
She felt sick. 

It didn't quite pan out as she'd planned.  
The knock on the door and the ring of the bell bought no reply. 

He wasn't at home. 

Sam was unaware that this was the day of the final summing up at the end of the trial. It had been expected to last at least another week. 

Luckily she had her own door key in her handbag. 

Letting herself into the house that had been her home for well over eighteen months, bought a lump to her throat.  
Wandering the silent rooms. 

Nothing much had altered. 

Her den was exactly as she'd left it. 

Except fresh flowers had been placed there, yellow roses, her favourites, and the album she'd given Malcolm for Christmas was open on her desk. 

Sam clamped a hand over her mouth, swallowing back the rising emotion. 

The whole place was pristine.  
She didn't fail to notice a strange pair of woman's shoes under the hall stand. 

Upstairs slowly, hand clutching the bannister rail.  
Pushing open the bedroom door. THEIR bedroom, hers and his. 

The bed was made tidily, one of her T shirts folded neatly on the pillow. All her things were where she'd left them. Ready for her, should she return.  
Her photograph, Malcolm's most beloved had been taken from the album and placed in a little frame beside his clock on the bedside table. 

When entering the spare room, her eyes alighted straight away on another photograph, on the dresser. Mac McDonald, with Alex and Caitlin. An empty suitcase in the corner. 

Now she understood. 

Nancy had been staying here. 

Downstairs, into the kitchen. Looking for the cat, who's furry bed was also deserted. No sign of him. No doubt out on the prowl! 

Her mouth dry, her hands shaking. 

Pouring a glass of water for herself, she sat down on the stool at the counter, her bags at her feet.......and waited. 

oOo

At the sound of her voice Malcolm stopped dead in his tracks. Eyes popped wide with disbelief. 

Nancy, who had followed him, almost bumped into his back, he came to a halt so suddenly. 

She gave a little gasp at the sight of Sam, before quietly backing away, tiptoeing discretely upstairs, leaving the two alone. 

For what seemed like hours the pair stood, staring at each other. Malcolm swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his tight throat.

Sam hopped down from the stool with the intention of going to him, her legs weak with a sudden urge to kneel at his feet, wrap her arms around his legs, gather him close to her and weep. 

He beat her to it. 

Sinking down to the floor with a strangled explosion of air from his mouth, a choking sob, as his knees hit the tiles. 

She reached him in a rush, trying to catch him up but failing. His arms snaked around her body at bum height. His face pressed against her skirt. 

Embracing him in return, encircling his head, holding him against her as she struggled to stay upright. 

Not a single word passed between them. The only sound a deep pitiful moaning in Malcolm's throat. 

After a few moments he released his grip enough for her to bend down to his level, crouching then kneeling before him. Their faces inches apart. 

"Malcolm." She whispered. 

The sobs broke from him in waves. Desperate wailing sobs. 

"Sam! I'm sorry. So sorry. Please forgive me. I'm so, so sorry." The words punctuated by his choking breaths.

"Hush! Don't." Soothing him, small fingers gently brushing across his temples, into his hair, smoothing through the soft curls at the back of his neck, and squeezing slightly. 

His head nuzzled into her breastbone just below her chin, as she clasped him to her. Resting there for a few seconds, seeking comfort.  
Pushing him back she placed both hands on his cheeks, raising the eager face towards hers. 

The smile she gave him made his heart leap and hammer against his ribs. 

Closing his eyes, the tears came spilling out, coursing down. 

Pressed together chest to chest, she allowed her lips to touch his lightly. Little pecks against his willing mouth. 

All that came from him were gasps of relief and moans of sheer abandonment.

Rushes of air, sucked into his lungs and forced out again under immense pressure. 

Malcolm's long fingers twisted a strand of her soft hair, regarding her in both shock and disbelief, before testing the feel of her, incredulous that she was actually here, that he could touch soft skin, see warm brown eyes, a sweet smile, smell her perfume. 

The kisses became more insistent between them. Sinking into each other as if they would both melt. Heat and fire. Smouldering embers threatening to become an inferno. 

When they finally parted, Malcolm was breathless, still sobbing violently, unable to stop. 

Taking both her hands in his own he placed fervent kisses against them, laying his cheek upon them as if he were worshipping a deity.  
An act of devotion.  
Reverential, bowing down now before her, leaning forwards over his own thighs like a Muslim praying to Mecca, until his forehead was almost touching the floor. Hands stretched out in front of him, as if in supplication, his fingers splayed against the cool tiles. 

"Fuck! Fuck! I'm dying......" 

Kneeling up Sam leaned her body over the top of his, arms around him, head resting on his back. 

"Shhhh! It's alright......" She whispered. 

Letting her eyes fall shut, breathing in the delicious scent of him that she'd missed so much. Her hair fell forwards over her damp face, and she let out a long juddering sigh, letting go, relaxing into the soft fabric of his suit.

oOo

It was some while before she eventually made to stand and raise Malcolm up, taking him under the armpits and helping him haltingly to his feet. 

"Easy now....." 

Piloting him gently into the living room. He allowed her to guide him, still turning his head to reassure himself of her continuing presence. Afraid she would slip away from him again, melt and be gone, as she had so often in his recent dreams. 

Leading him tenderly by the hand.  
Bidding him to sit on the sofa, she crawled into his lap and curled herself there.  
Bringing both knees up, head ducked down, one ear close to his chest.  
Pushing his tie aside she unfastened two buttons on his shirt and pushed her right hand gently in through the gap, resting the flat palm against his bare flesh.  
His heart beating wildly beneath her fingertips. 

Tightly held in the circle of his arms, inclining his head to lean on top of hers. One cheek against her hair, the smell of which filled his nostrils, intoxicating him. 

No words were necessary, so neither wasted precious energy on them. 

Leaden eyelids closed slowly, both overwrought.....a combination of jet lag, heightened emotion, relief from weeks of anxiety, sheer exhaustion after days and days of stress. 

When Nancy crept downstairs an hour or so later she found them thus. 

Sleeping deeply. 

They were together. 

Where they were meant to be. 

Nothing else in the world mattered at that moment. She silently thanked God! 

Standing, hands on hips, looking down, she shook her head at the sight of them, cuddled up like two children. Allowing herself a tiny smile, wiping away an errant tear, before covering the pair with a blanket and taking herself off to bed. 

That night all three slept more soundly than they had since the very first night Sam left.


	23. Paradise Regained.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week has passed. 
> 
> Malcolm is dreaming. 
> 
> Then thinking. 
> 
> It's Christmas......again! 
> 
> But a little different from last year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of Malcolm's thoughts and feelings in this one. 
> 
> And quite a bit about him exploring himself and what he wants. 
> 
> The tinsel part is especially for my good friend @tardisnamedjack on tumblr. With my love!! Xxx
> 
> I don't want to go too far with the dominant thing, because I don't think Malcolm would either, but I think he likes the frisson of excitement a little and I think Sam quite enjoys it too!!

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.  
PARADISE REGAINED.

Malcolm woke from strange and convoluted dream. 

He'd been desperately searching for something he'd lost. Unable to remember what it was, nor yet what he'd done with it.  
Hunting high and low.  
It worried him greatly. Whatever it was, he needed to find it, and soon. He was feeling sick, queasy with the anxiety of it.  
Quite suddenly he felt as though he were suffocating. A strange constriction in his throat. Hands, pressing against his windpipe. 

Waking, gasping, clutching at his neck. 

Realising he was safe. In bed. 

Not dying. Or being strangled. Not anything. Just there. 

Sitting up, he looked to his left in the gloom. 

A womanly shape on the pillow beside him. 

He reached out and switched on the bedside lamp. 

Sam. 

Deeply asleep. 

He lay down again, relieved, on one side, facing her. 

Watching her slumber. 

Her face was thinner than he remembered. Almost a month she'd been away. 

The longest he'd been apart from her since the first day he'd gone home with her from the office, and ended up staying the whole weekend. A long time ago now. 

She'd lived with him for almost two years. Through thick and thin.  
Yet he'd failed her. 

At least that was how he felt. Everything that had happened in the previous months had been down to him.  
Insecurities. 

It was true he'd gathered strength. Stepped up to the plate as she'd faltered.  
But ultimately he'd driven her away. Because of his fears, his hangups, his past.....his everything. 

Now she was back. 

Seeing her there when she turned up out of the blue in his kitchen, floored him. The relief. After weeks of heartache. There were no words to be said. So they'd barely spoken, just held each other and thanked their lucky stars. 

Now it was a week later. Nancy had returned to Scotland. 

The readjustment had taken some time. The feeling of bereavement, of deep loss, took a while to relinquish its hold. 

They'd talked and talked and talked. Far into the night. About everything and anything. All the stupid things and the important things.  
Round and round in circles. 

Going over everything. 

The reasons why he'd felt the way he had. The depression she'd undoubtedly been suffering from and it's root cause. The way she'd felt shut out. Isolated. His own bitterness, anger and frustration. 

Trials and tribulations aplenty. Which stalled and stymied them both at every turn. 

Well, now they were over. 

Behind him. Them. 

He was media flavour of the month again. All over the papers. Angela's article chief amongst many. 

By rights he should feel vindicated. Triumphant. 

Actually, he felt more unsettled and lost than ever. 

The day Sam walked out of his house he convinced himself he'd never see her again.  
The worst of it was he felt sure she was doing the right thing. He was not what she deserved. Sam Cassidy could do so much better. 

Yet apparently that was not the case. 'Better' wasn't what she wanted.  
Leaving him had been as painful and traumatic for her as it had been devastating for him. 

But it had shown him the truth. 

What she meant to him. How much they needed each other. How deeply bonded they were. 

It was quite a shock.

Malcolm had allowed himself to become complacent. Taken her love for granted. He'd stopped really trying. He just assumed she'd be happy to jog along as they were, and not require more. Until he was ready.....or not. As the case may be. 

That was _not_ the case. 

His sister had seen it. Jamie and Laura had too. So had Sam's brother Paul, when she'd spent a month in the US with him and partner Gretchen. Everyone was, apparently, well aware. Except Malcolm. 

Samantha Cassidy needed Malcolm Tucker like the air she breathed. 

He completed her.  
In every way.  
Without him she simply couldn't function normally. 

He was the one person in the world who knew her the best. 

Put colloquially, he 'got her'. Knew what made her tick. 

What she needed was something tangible to cling to. She yearned for the sense of belonging that had always eluded her in life. To be His. A future together. 

She wanted that with him. No other. 

Malcolm had never felt he really belonged anywhere, or to anyone. 

His relationships thus far had been ones of duty, family, or convenience. 

Here was someone who was really HIS. She often tried to tell him so. Heart and soul. 

In the past he always felt that he had no right to possess someone.  
To own them. 

It didn't sit well. Ownership smacked of a jealous possessiveness which would eventually mar the whole affair. Sour it. Destroy it. He'd been down that road before with his marriage. It didn't end well. 

But with Sam the belonging wasn't the same.  
It was founded not on the need to prevent the other person being fulfilled, to stifle or restrain them, but firmly based on mutual love. Desires.  
A symbiosis.  
It was a way of expressing, not control or conquest, but of care and keeping.  
There existed between them a conjoined guardianship, each holding the other and keeping them safe. Not in the sense of goods and chattels but in a nurturing, comforting, protecting way. A shared loving partnership. 

This was, to Malcolm, a wholly new and previously unexplored avenue. 

Giving as well as receiving. Not something he'd often encountered. 

Yet he found it with Sam.  
Just as she'd bought out in him aspects of himself that he'd never dared to visit.  
Particularly sexually.  
With her he could feel comfortable, because there was no element of embarrassment or fear of ridicule. Sam was not out to torment or belittle.  
Things that would previously have made him ill at ease, could be discussed sensibly, analysed, dealt with and put aside. 

The pair were two halves of the same whole. 

It actually wasn't really that complicated. 

Malcolm knew that now. It took her leaving him to realise it. 

He never wanted to be parted from her like that again. Not ever. 

Now he was certain of the future he wanted. Utterly and completely sure. 

He made plans to this end. Now all he had to do was put them in place. This time he would not be headed off at the pass. 

Sam stirred slightly, all this time he'd been lying there, silent, facing her, watching her. Thinking. 

How he adored her! 

Her eyes opened languidly, dark chocolate pools, soft and kind. 

"Why's the light on?" She asked sleepily. 

"Sorry....I woke up....had a funny dream." He replied sheepishly. 

"C'mere baby." Without making any bones about it, she opened her arms to him and he snuggled close to her. 

"Christmas tomorrow....." She murmured. 

"Yeah....you said no presents this year....right?" His voice was muffled against her skin. 

"Right! And you'd better not pull one out or I'll be cross....." Her face was close to his, their lips almost touching. 

"I won't......promise." He sighed, letting his eyes drift closed again.

"Malcolm?" 

"What is it?" 

"Turn that bloody light off....." 

oOo

Christmas morning couldn't have been more different from the previous year. 

Ramsey wandered the hallway with a silk bow round his neck....which he wasn't much keen on wearing. But which Sam thought made him look rather cute. She'd bought him a fluffy mouse with a bell inside, which he wasn't keen on either! He'd much rather catch the real thing. 

Malcolm and Sam were in the kitchen. 

_"Have Yourself a Merry little Christmas_ " was playing in the background, Malcolm was singing along. Sam grinning to herself like a loon. 

Her idea had been to share a delicious special breakfast together, and as it was early, they were still in dressing gown and jim-jams.

She was busy making poached eggs and hollandaise to go with mashed avocado on bruschetta. Malcolm was making coffee and pouring a glass of Buck's Fizz. 

This was going to be a festive time for the pair together, at home, alone. 

Neither could face a day of anything other than each other. 

Jamie and Laura were away in Cyprus anyway. 

Nancy had secured a promise that they would all be together for Hogmanay. 

 

Malcolm threaded his arms around her waist as she stood at the stove. Pressing himself against her back. Still crooning softly.  
Tucking back her hair, he kissed her neck and then blew a raspberry there, making her giggle and squirm. 

"Malcolm! What are you doing? Stop! I'm cooking!" She squeaked. 

She turned in his embrace, and their mouths latched on passionately. 

Her fingers insinuated their way inside his robe, but then stopped short. She pulled back from him. Eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Malcolm.....what's this? What on earth are you wearing?" Her hands strayed to his waist tie, loosening it. 

He tried in vain to keep his face straight, but it twisted uncontrollably into a lustful smirk. 

Gently, with their eyes locked upon each other's, she began to pull his robe apart, before glancing down the length of his body and breaking into a sudden burst of laughter. 

Underneath his dressing gown he was naked, as she'd expected.......but entirely wrapped in swathes of tinsel. 

She clamped her hand over her mouth as she began to wheeze with fits of giggles, her gaze finally fastened on his semi hard prick, which was resplendent with a red velvet bow tied around it. 

"Oh Malcolm......" She gasped, holding her sides. 

"Happy Christmas darl! You said no presents......so I'm giving you me....." He waggled himself at her provocatively. 

"You fucking want some of this?" He demanded, letting the robe fall to the floor and giving her a little twirl. 

Sam was beyond speech. Tears rolling down her face. 

"Malcolm.....don't......oh my lord.....that's the funniest......" 

"Don't mock the fucking merchandise love......my Yule Log is the best thing you'll get all day......" 

"I have no doubt of it!" She responded, turning serious now, drawing him to her, her hand sliding down, touching him where the bow was fastened. 

The cooking preparation all but forgotten. 

He hissed with pleasure at the sensation. A change seemed to float across his face. 

"Down woman!" He said sternly. "You don't get this dick for nothing. You have to earn it.....what do you say to me?" 

Sam's eyes were dark with arousal as at his gesture she sank to her knees gratefully in front of him. 

"Yes sir......thank you, merry Christmas Malcolm!" She whispered reverentially, looking up at him. 

"Good girl! Time to unwrap it I think!" He was fully hard now and extremely excited, as she stroked him and then took him into her mouth, untying the bow and carefully dragging the soft material along the length of his erection. 

His legs almost gave way, and she rested her hands on the outsides of his thighs to support him. 

Looking down on her he watched his prick disappear to the back of her throat, he wondered how the fuck did she not gag? He could never work it out. 

God....but he fucking loved it. What she did to him. For him. 

Wet now and glistening with her saliva, licking up the length of him until he pushed forwards against her face, her fingers strayed to his balls, fondling them. 

"Oh fuck!" He murmured. "Shit! Stop Sam." He closed his eyes in bliss, lost in the moment, his knees buckling. 

"That good sir?" She asked dreamily, placing a small kiss just above his pubic hair. 

"Up!" He replied, pulling himself together. "Undress for me, I want to see you." 

She kept her eyes lowered modestly as she began, very slowly, to unbutton her top. Easing it open, then off, before shimmying out of her shorts and knickers. Letting them fall away. Exposing herself to him fully.  
A step closer, then another, one arm drawing her into his chest his hand cupped between her legs gently, his fingers exploring. Making her moan wantonly and push against his touch. 

"Don't you dare......" He growled, "......not until I say!" 

"No Malcolm." She responded meekly. 

"Who does this belong to?" He asked. Stroking her more firmly. 

"You. Malcolm. It's yours." She sucked in a little breath at the feel of his insistent fingers. 

Taking her firmly around the waist he lifted her, bunting her up, sitting her onto the hard worktop, she gave a little cry of surprise as her bare arse touched the cold granite.

"Show me." He commanded. 

Looking into his eyes, she licked her lips slowly and spread her legs apart for him. 

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as he stood between her parted knees. 

"I bet you'd like me to touch you more, wouldn't you.....or use my tongue? Because you're such a naughty minx and you want to come.....badly.....look how wet you are already!" His eyes roamed greedily over her body.

"Yes, please Malcolm. Only if it pleases you...."

"Not yet......" 

Leaning forwards he began to kiss her, gently at first, then harder.

"Oh, Malcolm....sir......" She whispered as he moved down her neck, throwing her head back, as his tongue circled each nipple, teasing until they stood out proud, her breathing becoming increasingly erratic. 

"More! Please....I'll do anything...." She sighed, pressing herself closer. 

Achingly hard, he looked down at himself. 

"How about some of this? I know you like my cock. You're a slut for it. Do you deserve it....do you think, having me inside you?" 

She nodded eagerly, guiding him towards her entrance, a fingertip circling his sensitive head as she did so. 

"Yes! I do......I love your cock.....so much......please.....I want it....." 

"Right answer! Now I'm gonna shaft you till you fucking come....." He rasped. 

"Can I? Please.....sir......tell me I can......I need to, so bad....." 

At her words he sheathed himself deeply inside her. She gasped as he thrust himself forwards. Wrapping her legs around his body, angling herself to meet him, her ankles crossed at the small of his back. He teased her at first by moving slowly, letting her feel him but not allowing her the friction she required.  
Her little whimpers of need spurred him on. 

"Come for me Sam......come for me now......come like a good girl....." 

He fucked her hard and fast then, until she cried out, arching herself, shuddering against him. 

Then fell limply forwards, her arms draped around his neck. Gasping 'Malcolm' into his ear. 

With a groan he let go himself, pulsing inside her strongly. 

"Merry fucking Christmas!" 

Recovering afterwards she released his body from the vice like grip of her legs and he pulled out. Immediately she missed the sensation of being filled by him. 

"God! Malc......." She breathed, her face flushed and sweaty, so weak he had to help her to hop down to the floor, her legs still shaking from her orgasm. 

"So masterful today......you're really getting the hang of this......I love it!" 

She touched his face gently, allowing her fingers to graze across his mouth lazily. 

"Tiger!" She smiled. 

"Do you? Do you, Sam? Really?......you like it.....I'm doing it right?" 

His eyes were bright, alert, excited, but nervous and unsure. His words came out in a flurry of anxiety as he tried to air his massed confusion of thoughts. 

"I'm still not entirely convinced about the _Sir_ thing though, and it's not what I want all the time, Sam.....sometimes I just want to love you....like....you know.......I was never much of a one for bedroom games.....Christ! my ex was! I fucking suffered denial under her hands......for months on end.....fucking miserable torture.....!!!"  
He drew his hands across his forehead with a pained expression at the memory.  
".......but then there are times when....when I feel so powerful....deep inside, and I feel like I'll explode with it......and.......and....fuck, I'm not sure I understand where it comes from......you'd tell me if I go too far? If I say anything or do anything you don't like? I'm so......I dunno.....fine line.....what's acceptable and what isn't......fuck if I know...."

Her hands traced down his forearms as he stood there, still trembling slightly from his climax, looking into her face, eager, expectant, his brow furrowed into a perplexed mixture of rapture and self loathing. 

"Malcolm! Of course I'd tell you! I'd no more put up with something I didn't want or like, anymore than I'd expect you to! That's how it works. I know you're scared of certain feelings, I also know there are things you've kept bottled up for years. But you were wonderful just now! And what's more you're being more you! And I love that.....truly.  
I love giving you pleasure, watching your face and seeing how much you're enjoying it.  
I don't have to call you Sir, I can call you anything....or nothing....whatever turns you on the most. You're right, it is a game, in a way, but it's serious too. So we work it out, we talk about it.....just between you and me. I would never go so far as to make you feel uncomfortable. What would be the point? It would hurt you, I wouldn't want to do what we just did all the time either.  
But the occasions when we do turn me on Malcolm.....it's exciting....." 

"Fuck me!" He breathed. "Does things to me too......big time.....it's the words as much as the actions.....like nothing I've ever....."

She placed a finger over his lips.

"Hush!" She smiled. "You're still exploring it, finding how far you can go, what works for you, what doesn't, it's all good.....Malcolm please don't worry.....I love you.....so much.......Happy Christmas my darling!" 

"Happy Christmas Sam. My angel, my dear one......." He paused, mid kiss, then licked his lips hungrily.  
"......hey Sam?"

"What is it?" Her fingers closed around his. 

"Starving now.....shall we eat?" 

She laughed, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

"Good idea! So am I! Ravenous in fact! But I think, if you don't mind, I'll go jump in the shower first....."


	24. Bathsheba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogmanay.
> 
> Malcolm has plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bathsheba is a place I've visited, as are many of the places mentioned in my stories. 
> 
> Malcolm with longer hair and a beard is especially for my friend @flydye8 with my love. Thank you for the idea.  
> I hasten to add this is NOT Peter, it is Malcolm with longer hair and a beard. 
> 
> The two are not the same. The only similarity is that Malcolm has Peters face! 
> 
> The song for this chapter is Norah Jones. Come Away with Me. 
> 
> Come away with me in the night  
> Come away with me  
> And I will write you a song  
> Come away with me on a bus  
> Come away where they can't tempt us, with their lies  
> And I want to walk with you  
> On a cloudy day  
> In fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high  
> So won't you try to come  
> Come away with me and we'll kiss  
> On a mountaintop  
> Come away with me  
> And I'll never stop loving you  
> And I want to wake up with the rain  
> Falling on a tin roof  
> While I'm safe there in your arms  
> So all I ask is for you  
> To come away with me in the night  
> Come away with me

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.  
BATHSHEBA. 

As the 'bongs' from Big Ben chimed out the New Year on the television in the lounge, Malcolm pulled Sam away from the throng.  
Out into the garden at Nancy's house, where they were staying, as promised, for Hogmanay.

It was a bitter night and just starting to snow. Tiny flecks of white in the darkness, like tufts of cotton floating down, swirling into little eddys and settling on the rooftops. 

Fireworks flashed and illuminated the cold clear air above their heads, reflected in her eyes as she looked skywards. Snowflakes in her eyelashes and on her hair.  
Gasping at the bursts of colour, the deafening noise of fizzing and snapping as they bloomed, like vast chrysanthemums, then died and faded away. 

Malcolm was close to her, his hands clutching her elbows. She shivered, threading her cold raw hands inside his jacket, feeling for his body warmth.  
He smelled faintly of after shave, and malt whiskey, and cigar smoke......not that he'd been smoking it.....but Jamie had. 

"Happy New Year Malcolm!" She whispered, bringing her lips to his and lingering there for the longest time.  
Careless of those who may be watching them, and there were quite a few. 

Silhouetted perfectly as they were, by the lights from the kitchen.

The kiss was deep and long, because Malcolm kept coming back for more, until he was quite breathless.  
Holding her so tightly against him, her fingers against his chest, feeling his heart hammering against his rib cage, fit to bust. 

As they finally pulled apart, their breath mingling in clouds around their heads in the chill night, he lifted her off her feet and spun her round, with a whoop of unbridled joy.  
Setting her down, excited, drunk, not with alcohol, but with love, flushed and eager. 

Only a very short time ago, he didn't think he'd see this day.....at least not with her.  
But here she was. In his embrace. His shining beacon. Everything he ever wanted in his life.  
She was here in his arms. 

She came back. 

Never would he allow that to happen again. This was it. His moment. For all the plans he'd set in motion since she returned.  
His excitement was infectious, Sam picked up on it immediately. 

"What is it?" She smiled. "What's got into you?" 

"Come away with me Sam.....will you?" 

She laughed a merry tickling laugh.

"You're mad! When?" 

"Day after tomorrow. I've got it all planned......tickets booked.....please? Please, Sam......just say yes....." 

His eyes glittered, as an enormous rocket exploded overhead. Echoing around the houses. 

Her hands cupped his face, leaning into him again, looking up at him. 

"Yes!" She whispered. "Yes, Malcolm.....I'll come away with you." 

oOo

It was a measure of her faith that she hadn't even troubled herself to ask _'where?'_

She said ' _yes'_ and that was that. Her only question was _'what do I pack'?_

The destination, when she finally found out, (which wasn't until they were deposited at the airport), was quite a surprise. 

Barbados. 

"But....Malcolm.....you hate hot sun.....and beaches....." 

He smiled gently. 

"I know, but I like good food, and good company.....and they do have shade!" 

Sam had visions of the jet set West Coast. Sandy Lane.....the Royal Pavilion. Although she couldn't fathom why on earth Malcolm would choose such a place. Hob-nobbing with the rich and famous just wasn't his scene. 

As the taxi drew up outside, she realised she'd been quite wrong. 

Perched on a hill, on the quiet East side of the island. The place was like stepping back in time.  
Situated where the relentless might of the Atlantic Ocean sometimes battered the coast mercilessly.  
Although today all was benign and serene. 

An old colonial house. Two storey. With a verandah along the front. 

Wooden shutters. Ceiling fans. A vast bed with a fine mosquito net suspended on a hook above it.  
Scrupulously clean, with rush matting on the wooden floors, a hand woven bedspread. Rattan furniture, and lanterns, which looked like old fashion Tilly lamps from the thirties. 

"Oh my word!" Sam breathed. "Malcolm it's perfect! Where in God's name did you find this place?"

She walked out onto the terrace. 

"It's like being in an episode of Miss Marple! It's so beautiful!" She enthused, her eyes taking in the vista.

"You like it?" He asked, pleased as punch by her reaction. 

"Oh! I adore it!" She beamed, turning to look at him, taking his hand. 

In front of her a clipped lawn swept down to a view out to sea. Palm trees and lush greenery everywhere in the surrounding garden. Hummingbirds flitted from the hibiscus flowers, their iridescent plumage catching the sunlight.  
Pride of Barbados blossom framed the verandah railing, fiery red or bright yellow like a floral sunset.  
The restaurant, to the left, on the promontory, was reached by a little cobbled way, an open deck, with curtains that could be drawn across if the breeze was too much, but opened to give a clear view.  
The paths lit by strings of lanterns at night. 

Traditional Bajan cuisine was served there, cooked, not by chefs, but by friendly, smiling local women. 

The menu featured Cou-cou. Made with cornmeal and okra, similar to what Americans would call 'grits'.  
Succulent flying fish. Rice and peas, with freshly baked salt bread.  
Macaroni pie. Goat stew or curry.  
For dessert there was sticky rum cake, or bananas flambéed in rum.  
Little crispy fried balls, made of pancake batter, called 'bakes' and Sam's absolute favourite.....'conkies' which were a mixture of coconut, spices, sugar and pumpkin or other fruits looking like a won-ton, steamed in a banana leaf. 

They would dine, share a bottle of wine quietly, sometimes alone, if other guests had gone into town, sitting by flickering lantern light, a warm, balmy evening, the stars wheeling overhead, listening to the tree frogs as they sang their creaky night song. 

It was heaven. 

oOo

A short walk down the steep hill was The Atlantis. A hotel and restaurant overlooking the small harbour of Tent Bay. Moored with little coloured fishing boats bobbing on the waves.  
It too was open to the elements with a large tarpaulin shade overhead, to keep off the powerful sun, or, occasionally, the spring rain.  
In the other direction, the small ex colonial town of Bathsheba. 

Strung along the wide sweep of the bay. A long sandy beach, but with rolling waves crashing in. Punctuated by rock formations which dotted the surf. Eroded by the combination of sea and wind, into curious shapes.  
As if they'd been dropped there by a careless hand. 

Once there had been a railway there, long since eaten away and fallen into the sea, the hand of man reclaimed by the inexorable power of the elements. 

Shacks and old houses, repaired and rerepaired over the decades, dotted the promenade, such as it was. Painted in bright oranges, blues, reds and greens.  
Selling drinks and hot food, beers and other comestibles.  
Frequented by both the locals and the visitors. 

The surroundings here were lush and green......stands of banana plants, with their thick glossy green leaves. Palms, swaying and bending in the Caribbean breeze.  
Sugar cane, taller than a man, and old look-out posts, ancient sugar mill buildings, all long forgotten legacies of the island's slave past.  
Thankfully gone now, but not forgotten. 

In short. Fucking Paradise. 

oOo

Since before Christmas, Malcolm had neither the time, nor the inclination to get a haircut. 

The inevitable result was curls. Abundant curls.

Soft and luxuriant, changing the way he looked completely. 

Sam loved them to distraction. 

The look softened his whole face, less severe, making his brow, and more particularly, his large nose, seem less sharp. 

Now he was here in the Caribbean, where the pace of life was that of the snail variety, compared with London, he stopped shaving too. 

For a couple of days he looked like a tramp that slept the night on a park bench, and Sam frowned when he kissed her. 

"It's like being ravished by a hedgehog!" She complained. 

But it didn't take long before the face fuzz was as baby soft as the hair on his head. Not wiry as you'd imagine, not bristly or course, but like a child's hairbrush.   
Grey, like his hair, but with darker areas around his mouth and cheeks, the chin being the whitest. 

Sam couldn't stop touching it. Stroking his chin and humming contentedly.   
It made him look quite different. Certainly no one they encountered recognised him. 

Sam wandered out onto the verandah into the cool shade. 

Unashamed that she had just taken an afternoon siesta. She'd gone there on the pretext of reading her book, but something caught up with her, be it jet lag or the after effects of the weeks leading up to this moment, she wasn't sure. But as her body relaxed into a new rhythm she found she couldn't keep her eyes open. 

There was Malcolm.

Lying in a hammock. 

Which was strung from the posts on each side of the balcony. 

A pillow under his head, hands folded neatly across his middle, his beautiful long fingers interlaced. Wearing an open necked short sleeved shirt. Shorts and flip flops. 

Legs akimbo....presumably to keep him from rolling out and onto the deck. 

He was soundo. 

Snoring slightly. Deeply relaxed. 

Sam smiled to herself as she stood over him. The grey tinge to his skin was gone. He looked a great deal healthier than the previous month. 

It had been quite a shock to see him when she returned from The States. He seemed to have aged ten years.   
His weight loss had been dramatic, and he'd not regained it.   
Scrawny and undernourished. 

Now he looked better. 

As she watched him he stirred slightly, throwing one arm up behind his head. Smacking his lips as he dreamed on.   
Leaning over him, careful not to tip him out, she kissed his brow gently. 

His eyes opened languidly, and he smiled. Sam swallowed down the lump which rose in her throat. 

"Okay sleepy head?" She whispered, suddenly overwhelmingly tearful. 

"C'mere." He replied, holding his arms out to her. 

She lay down on top of him, since there wasn't room to snuck in at his side. Her head on his chest.   
His legs either side of hers.   
Hands clasped at her back. Holding her tight. 

He gave a sigh, and kissed the top of her head. 

"Happy?" He enquired. 

"What do you think?" She smiled, raising her head so that she could look into his face, blinking back the tears.

"I have plans for tomorrow." He continued sleepily. 

"Oh?" She raised her eyebrows. 

"Further up the hill, about a mile on the left, are the Botanical Gardens.....it's supposed to be beautiful.......thought we'd go up there for lunch?" 

"Sounds perfect." She murmured, laying her head back down. 

"Sam?" He queried, his hand commencing to circle gently around her shoulder blades. 

"What?" She raised her head again. 

"Have you ever had sex in a hammock?" 

She stifled a giggle, shunting herself a little higher so she could reach his mouth to kiss him. 

"Can't say I have." She grinned. 

A pause.

"Sam?" 

"Yes, Malcolm?" Her voice as innocent as she could contrive to make it, although beneath her she was well aware of his body's reaction to her words. 

"Would you like to try it?" 

"I'm game if you are!" She whispered, and kissed him thoroughly again.


	25. Plans. (Part One.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We begin with a flashback. 
> 
> Then we are back in Bathsheba. 
> 
> Malcolm has planned a visit to the Botanical Gardens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written and rewritten this damn chapter. 
> 
> I wanted it to be right, but not too saccharin. If it's turned out like that I apologise. 
> 
> But consider.....Malcolm has money. He won a huge compensation payout after the sensation of his childhood traumas were made known.  
> In short, he's not short of a few Bob. 
> 
> So he's not going to be a cheapskate over something as important as this!!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.  
PLANS. (Part One)

_New Years Eve......._

"Alex, can I talk to you privately a moment?" 

"Sure, Uncle Malc.....what's wrong?" 

"Nothing. But I need you to do something for me. And it must remain secret, can I trust you?" 

"Of course you can!"

"Can you take this envelope and keep it somewhere safe. Somewhere where mam won't find it. You mustn't say you have it. Just look after it....okay?" 

"Yes, Uncle. And I mustn't open it?" 

"No. You'll know when, or I'll let mam know. Secret. Okay. Promise me?" 

"I promise on my life! I'll put it in my treasure box. Mam never looks in there." 

"Good man!" 

oOo

"Happy New Year Malcolm." Laura gave Malcolm a firm hug. 

"Laura, I have something for you. Quick.....I don't want Sam to see. Can you stick it in your handbag and leave it there and forget about it.....for the time being anyway?" 

He handed her a brown envelope.

"Er......sure. What is it?" 

"My fucking last Will and Testament! Don't fucking tell Jamie.....just stash it and keep it safe, okay."

"Malcolm! Why are you being so mysterious? Oh good grief.....you're not ill or something are you?" Her face blanched. 

"Fuck no! Listen, just go with me here.....please Laura.....just don't ask.....and don't open....just, just......do as I ask, please? It's very important to me." 

"Alright, I'll do it. But I don't like it Malcolm, I hate secrets.....especially from Jamie....." 

"Hopefully, it won't be for long......I promise.....I hope......please love......trust me on this?" 

"Okay Malc. I love you." 

"Love you too. Happy New Year love." 

oOo

Each night before turning in, Malcolm tucked the net under and around the sides of the bed after pushing back the shutters wide. 

Lying next to Sam in the gauzy cocoon he could see the stars, and sometimes the moon, through the open window, but more restful than that, he could hear the sea. 

A distant rhythmic 'whoosh'. Lulling him, he found the effect soporific.  
Slept like a log. 

Tree frogs not withstanding! 

For someone who was not a beach person, nor for that matter much of a naturalist, Malcolm loved the sea. 

He loved the sound it made. It's powerful majesty. He loved its moods and it's caprices.  
Tame and benign, wild and frightening.  
Didn't matter if it was coastal Suffolk, the azure Med or the mighty Atlantic, it soothed and calmed him. 

As a child he'd seldom, if ever, been to the actual seaside. But he was often down by The Clyde.  
That wide grey expanse. Sliding slowly by, never ending.  
The tide ebbing and flowing, murky in those days, like soup.....or the water his mam used to scrub the front step.  
Watching the dockers, the boatmen, the tug boats, as they came and went. The bustle of it all, as it was then.  
Followed their dreams in his mind as they sailed off down the river into unknown adventures. 

"Malcolm?" 

"Mmmm!" 

"What are you dreaming about? You're whiffling!" 

Malcolm yawned expansively. 

"Whiffling?" 

"Yeah....making little noises in your throat, like a dog asleep in its basket, when it twitches and gives those small barks! I call that whiffling....."

He turned over to face her, still sleepy. 

"Was dreaming about the Clyde. When I was a wee lad.....the call of the sea......."

She snuggled into him. 

"We should get up.....it's late." 

He clasped her tighter. 

"Five more minutes!" 

oOo

The walk to the Andromeda Botanical Gardens was up a very steep hill from where they were staying.  
The sun was high and hot. They carried bottled water. 

Malcolm, who had abandoned his flip flops for sensible velcro fastening sandals, puffed as he walked. His hat pulled low on his head. Peering out from behind his Ray Bans.  
Sam wore shorts, and Roman style thong tie leather sandals, she too wore a straw hat with a wide brim. She did not puff......in fact she seemed to float along beside him, without much effort.  
Malcolm didn't think she could possibly look more lovely. 

A single lane, potholed, roughly tarmacked road. With deep gullies down each side to channel rain water.  
On either side, little bungalow houses. Some neat, some not. Humble, modest dwellings, most with corrugated rooves. Verandahs, wooden shutters, and a porch swing.  
Most had a plot of land around them, where scrawny chickens ran loose, or a goat or two was tethered.  
Banana plants, bread fruit, yams. Nurtured and tended. Simple lives. 

The Gardens covered some six acres. Sloping back down towards the sea. 

A beautiful, tranquil haven. 

Little paths led through the trees and ferns. Dense foliage like the jungle in places. Birds flitted and called amongst the branches.  
Bright red ginger flowers, bird of paradise blooms, waxy hibiscus and heliconia.  
Delicate orchids, so exquisite they hardly looked real.  
Peaceful ponds, trickling waterfalls under wooden bridges. Green lizards with black beady eyes scuttling in the undergrowth. 

Such beauty. Everywhere you looked. Sam was transported. 

They wandered, holding hands, passing beneath the dripping fronds of overhanging palm leaves.  
It was hot, but beneath the trees there was cool dappled shade. 

Here and there were chairs and tables under umbrellas. Or a wooden bench seat. 

Rounding a corner they came across a palm thatched arbour, with Bougainvillea cascading in coloured swathes all around the posts which held up the roof. 

Beneath it were seats and a small mosaic topped table. It looked out towards the ocean, taking in the whole sweep of the bay, which lay below them like a picture postcard. 

On the table was an ice bucket, containing champagne and two glasses. 

"Oh, look at that! How delightful! Someone's lucky!" Sam remarked, smiling. 

"Let's sit for a bit.....we could pinch a glass......" Malcolm responded, pulling her slightly towards the chairs. 

"We can't!" She exclaimed. "We can't do that......Malcolm! No! Someone's obviously arranged it......what if they turn up?" 

"No one's turning up Sam.......have a seat!" 

He led her, pulling the chair out for her so that she could sit down. 

Sam looked confused, frowning slightly, as she watched him pour a glass, then hand it to her, before pouring some for himself.

He sat down with a grateful sigh, narrowing his eyes as he took in the wonderful vista laid out in front of him. 

"Well!" He said softly, taking a draught. "This is nice!" 

"Just a moment......." Sam began. "You mean you.....? This? It's for us?" 

"Cheers sweetheart!" He smiled broadly, raising the flute towards her. 

"But you......? I mean......when? How?" She was still trying to compute. 

Malcolm tapped the side of his nose with a cheeky grin. 

Sam took a swig, then closed her eyes, with a satisfied hum. 

"Oh! That is good! Perfect in fact!" She beamed. "This day can't possibly get any better!" 

They sat for some moments. 

Sam became lost in thought, staring out across the crescent bay, watching the way the palms swayed, the scents of all the flowers surrounding her, the finches singing, everything.  
It was all just so serene and idyllic.  
Hardly able to believe she was here, sipping fizz, with the man she loved, having come so close to almost losing everything only a short time before. 

She closed her eyes again, letting her shoulders drop. Letting it all wash over her.  
Listening.  
No traffic. No blaring phones, sirens wailing, people shouting. Nothing. Just peace.  
She sucked in a deep breath of the fragrant air, then blew it out through her lips slowly.  
Self-possessed. A feeling of complete calm enveloped her. 

When she opened them slowly she was aware that Malcolm was in front of her, scrabbling about. 

"What's wrong? Have you dropped something?" She asked leaning forwards slightly. 

Malcolm was on one knee. 

He looked up into her face. Eyes so clear and steely that they pierced her very soul. 

Everything seemed to stop at that moment. Their gaze locked. 

Her eyes widening slightly as he took her left hand gently in his own. 

"Sam......there's something that I've been wanting to ask you......" 

Swallowing heavily, she bit her lip. 

Waiting. 

Hardly daring to take a breath. 

"Sam.....you know I love you. More than my life. You know you mean more to me than I could ever possibly say......?" 

As he spoke, his thumb moved lightly across the back of her hand. 

She nodded dumbly, unable to form words. 

He was struggling to control his voice, keep it even, not to break down. His face white. 

"Samantha Cassidy, would you do me the honour of being my wife? Will you consent to be with me, beside me, belong to me, as I belong to you? Will you let me love you for the rest of my life? Please will you marry me?" 

From his pocket he took a small box, which he opened, with a flick of his right thumb and forefinger.  
It contained a ring, a circle of small diamonds with a larger one in the centre, like a flower. 

When his glance went back to her face, tears were rolling down her cheeks slowly. Her right hand was clasping the material of her T shirt at her breast, as if to hold in the tide of emotion that swept over her. 

Unable to speak, her chin wobbling dramatically, she nodded her head and whispered...

"Yes, Malcolm, I will." Although it was barely audible. 

He slid the ring onto her finger, it was a perfect fit. It sparkled in the sunlight as she turned her hand, holding it closer to her face so that she could look more closely at it. 

"It's beautiful!" She whispered finally. "Just beautiful!" 

Looking back into his eyes, wet now as they were, she reached forwards, stroking his cheek as he stared eagerly up at her, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips, which were dry with nerves and apprehension. 

Leaning forwards again, she helped him to his feet, sitting him down on the chair, she parted his knees and knelt between them. Her arms threaded around his waist, head pressed against his middle. 

"Oh Malcolm. I love you so much. What you've done here is just wonderful. So perfect in every way. I'll be yours, forever. I'll belong to you. It's all I've ever wanted. All I'll ever need. To be your wife would be my honour." 

The words were muffled somewhat against his cotton shirt, but he got the gist. 

"Thank you Sam.......thank you so much." 

"I promise I'll always take care of you. As long as I have breath in my body. I'm just sorry I've waited so long, that it took me a while. I just wanted it to be right.......I always......" 

"Hush! It isn't your fault. It's circumstance. What happened, happened. It's in the past now. This is the now. We start from here. Today. Today I'm engaged to be married to Malcolm Tucker. Oh lord! I think I'm going to totally lose it!!" 

She sat back on her heels, flapping a hand fruitlessly in front of her face. Quite what that was meant to achieve he wasn't quite sure. But it failed spectacularly. 

She wept copiously anyway!


	26. Plans. (Part deux.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gradually the plans are coming together. 
> 
> Sam is deliriously happy, and that makes Malcolm happy. 
> 
> The pair do a little retail therapy in Bridgetown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I've really tried here to get it right. 
> 
> There is a little flashback too, but I've marked it. 
> 
> S'Wonderful. Ella Fitzgerald. 
> 
> 'S wonderful! 'S marvelous  
> You should care for me  
> 'S awful nice! 'S paradise  
> 'S what I love to see
> 
> You've made my life so glamorous  
> You can't blame me for feeling amorous  
> Oh! 'S wonderful! 'S marvelous  
> That you should care for me
> 
> 'S wonderful! 'S marvelous  
> You should care for me  
> 'S awful nice! 'S paradise  
> 'S what I love to see
> 
> My dear, it's four-leaf clover time  
> From now on my heart's working overtime  
> Oh! 'S wonderful! 'S marvelous  
> That you should care for me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.  
PLANS (Part deux).

As the day progressed Sam seemed to transform.

She was constantly smiling, her eyes bright and shining. Every so often Malcolm saw her hold out her left hand, staring at the ring there, then hold it against herself and sigh.  
Then she would turn to look at him, and he became a puddle of goo. 

A melting look. One of such devotion. 

At any given moment she would touch his fingers, or hold his face in her hands and place little kisses against his mouth. Laughing as his soft beard tickled her face. 

In all the time they'd been a couple, Malcolm had never seen Sam look like this. 

Unbridled joy. 

She positively glowed with love. 

It made him feel so humble, so emotional. 

She really did want him THAT much. It actually _did_ mean the world to her, that he should make her his wife. It was genuine. She meant it. He could see it in every gesture she made. 

He wanted to weep with the wonder of it. 

That evening they took a cab into Bridgetown. 

Bustling and vibrant, they wandered along to the Waterfront Café. 

Run by the wonderful Sue Walcott for over thirty years, it was THE place to be. They secured a table in the doorway.  
The restaurant was café style. Tables inside, tables on the pavement overlooking the river, and tables in the doorway where you got the best of both worlds.  
A brilliant jazz band was playing. Plates of delicious seafood whistling by. 

Sam spotted a celebrity she recognised, and nudged Malcolm's arm. 

No one looked twice at them, because although Malcolm's beard made him look distinctive, it was not what people equated with his 'look', so none of their fellow diners batted an eyelid. 

"Malcolm....? Have you thought about a date?" She asked, her large brown eyes fixed adoringly upon him.

He gave a little smile. 

"Well, yes......but I didn't know what you'd think....or say.....or what you'd want. And I want you to have whatever you want Sam.....it's your day.....yeah?" 

Reaching across the table she kissed him. 

"It's your day too." She whispered. 

His eyes fell and he stared hard at his knees. "I had my day." He responded sadly. "A long time ago." 

He could hardly bear to recall it, and Sam could tell he didn't want to say what he really truly wanted.  
So she took a deep breath and went for it herself....

"I don't want to get married in church. I'm not very religious and it would be infinitely painful for you.  
A wedding day should be the most joyful day of your life, not filled with unhappy memories. I don't want all the bridal shower, the hen night, the meringue dress _and_ the place settings _and_ the flower arrangements _and_ the favours _and_ the table layouts and all that fucking pointless flummery!  
I want simple.  
I want to be married to the man I love.  
We've waited too long already. I don't want to wait. Why fucking wait? I want to belong to you, to be yours. I'd happily do it tomorrow." 

She paused, waiting for the words to filter. 

"Me too!" He replied simply. 

"Then why the hell don't we?" 

"Well.....I'll need to set a few things in motion......so maybe not tomorrow.....but in a day or two? You'd _really_ be up for that?" 

"What's to stop us? I love you. All I've ever wanted is to be your wife. I don't need to think about it. Let's fucking go for it Malcolm. Let's just do it?" 

Malcolm rose from the table and held out a hand to her.  
The band began to play _'S'Wonderful'_ the black singer sounded almost as good as Ella. 

"Dance with me my beautiful fiancée!" He requested, with a twinkle in his eye. Enjoying the sound of that word. "My fiancée......" He repeated it, smiling. 

"Yes please!" She giggled. 

oOo

During the night, Sam stirred from a deep sleep to find Malcolm sitting up in bed, the light from his phone illuminating his face. 

"Wassup?" She asked sleepily. 

"Nothing.....just had a text from Nance....stupid lass.....she's no idea of the fucking time difference!" He smiled, clicked the phone off and settled back down. 

Curling at her side. 

"Malc?" 

"Mmmm?" 

"Make love to me.....please.....I want you......" 

He nuzzled closer. 

"It would be my pleasure!" He whispered. 

oOo

 _The day after New Year's Day......._.

Gretchen collected the post from the tin mail box at the end of the front yard. 

A letter. 

She recognised the writing. 

"Paul......there's a letter......addressed to us both......it's from Malcolm." 

"Well open it........" 

There was an envelope inside the envelope, and a short note. 

She read aloud. 

_"Dear Gretchen and Paul._

_Sorry I was a complete cunt. I realise that now. It took what happened for me to see. The fault was entirely mine. I love Sam, more than my life, and I promised you I'd take care of her. I will honour that promise until my last breath. Please keep the enclosed to one side until you hear from me. I trust you not to open it yet. I'll be in touch._

_With kind regards_

_Malcolm. xxx"_

"This is most odd!" Paul reached for the sealed enclosure and felt it with his fingers. 

"What do you think it is?" Gretchen asked. 

"I reckon it's an invite.....to go to London......I reckon he's planning something." 

His girlfriend clapped her hands together. 

"Oooo! I DO hope so!" She beamed. 

oOo

_The same day......._

Guy Heaney wandered down the hall in his dressing gown. 

His wife was sitting in the kitchen perusing the assembled daily papers. 

"Anything?" She asked, without looking up. 

Sorting through the post. 

"Bills......more bills.......an offer I can't refuse......Dominos pizza voucher.......oh, and a hand written letter......addressed to you......" 

Angela placed her coffee cup aside and held out her hand. 

"It's from Malcolm......" She said, around a mouthful of toast. 

"What does he say?" 

_"My dear Ange,_

_You have been the staunchest of friends, and I'm so grateful for it. I'm hoping to keep out of the public eye in future......!"_

She laughed. 

"Ha! Fat chance!" ....... _."please find enclosed for you and Guy.......but please don't open it yet.  
You will be hearing from me.....hopefully.....in due course. _

_All my love_  
_Malcolm xxxx"_

"What the fuck is that silly bugger up to?" She mused, turning the envelope over in her hands. 

"Open it and see....."

"No. I'll do as he says.....I know Malc......he'll have a good reason, he has a good reason for everything he does......put it on the mantlepiece. When I hear from him......I'll open it then!" 

oOo

The day after their dancing, Malcolm and Sam were in Bridgetown again. 

Shopping. 

They also visited the Magistrate. 

A most accommodating man. Large. With a dazzlingly white smile. Jovial and friendly. 

He'd be happy to marry them. 

Would they like to wed on the beach at Bathsheba? 

Yes, they bloody well would! 

They headed out clutching a letter to hand to the office at the Ministry for Home Affairs.  
_(Office hours Monday to Friday 8.30am to 3.30pm!_  
_Please provide the office with all the relevant paperwork!)_

They left on a cloud. 

Floating. 

They were actually going to fucking do this! 

Into the 'Cave Shepherd' department store. 

Malcolm, who hadn't packed a suit.....the only flaw in his plan so far.....bought a lightweight pale linen suit and a white shirt.  
Sam found a perfect plain white muslin dress, floor length, straight and slightly floaty with covered buttons down the back. 

She had a sudden fit of pique as to whether Malcolm should see her in it.....as he waited patiently outside for her to try things on.  
Deciding he shouldn't, she had it bagged up and emerged in her shorts again, forbidding him to look. 

White sandals with 'sparkly bits' on the front and a silk shawl later, they turned their attention to rings. 

Two plain gold bands. Unadorned. 

Malcolm asked for them to be engraved. 

" _Today, tomorrow, always."_ His name to go on her ring and vice versa, then the date. Sam beamed at his choice, wiping away a tear. Then kissed him thoroughly. 

Stop for a quick coffee. 

All that now remained was to keep the appointment with the Ministry office. 2pm. 

What a kind and helpful man! 

From his jacket Malcolm produced the Magistrates letter, plus $175 US for the Marriage licence. 

"Excellent, now all I need is the paperwork......do you have it?" 

It was here that Sam got quite a surprise. 

Malcolm first handed over their passports. Then.....from his jacket, like rabbits out of a hat, he produced a wodge of official looking bumph, which he proceeded to hand over......

His birth certificate. His marriage certificate to his first wife. His Decree Absolute. Their return flight tickets. HER birth certificate......

"Hang on......how did you.....?" She looked at her husband-to-be with a startled expression. 

"Just how much bloody planning have you done?" She demanded. 

"Um, quite a bit......." He reddened visibly. 

"But.....how did you know I'd say yes? Or that I'd want to get married straight away? Here? By ourselves?" 

"I didn't. It was a gamble. Biggest fucking gamble I've ever taken in my life......"

"Oh Malcolm Tucker! This had the potential to go SOOOOO tits up!!!" 

"Tell me about it!" He puffed. 

Rising, she pulled him to his feet and enveloped him in a hug, before pressing her lips fervently to his and the Minister looked on, faintly amused. 

"Well!" He clapped his hands together, with a laugh. "That's all I need I think. So.....you're good to go!


	27. The Day.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day is here. 
> 
> We learn about the envelopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This place and everything I've described really exists. The picture I've used is Bathsheba beach and was on the website of the place Malc and Sam are staying, where they cater for weddings. 
> 
> At times like this having a photographic memory is extremely useful!
> 
> If you would like to see the place Malcolm chose you can find it on http://www.seaubarbados.com/  
> Check it out!! My husband and I stayed there for our own romantic getaway!!

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.  
THE DAY. 

 

Sam was far too excited to sleep. She was in an upstairs room, given to her by Eveline, the proprietress.  
As she'd been thoroughly scolded, and told, in no uncertain terms that she was NOT sleeping with her groom that night....it was VERY bad luck!! 

She was dimly aware of a great many comings and goings during the night, but guessed it was all part of the preparations for the following day, probably more of Malcolm's devious planning, but she didn't care.

Tomorrow she would stand beside him. 

They would be joined together in matrimony. 

How could she possibly be expected to sleep? 

oOo

Malcolm was up at dawn. 

He wandered out, down the hill and along the beach, with his shoes in his hand. The sun was rising, chasing away the dark sky, flashes of orange and red, and fluffy clouds. 

He couldn't really believe this day was happening. 

Narrowing his eyes towards the horizon. One hand shielding his face. 

Watching the waves crashing in. There was only a light breeze, and as it was so early, the temperature was perfect for him. 

What he wouldn't give for a fucking cigarette right now! 

Hadn't smoked for decades!

A familiar voice called his name. 

Turning he saw his oldest compadre striding down the strand towards him, in shorts, flip flops and a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt.

It was almost a _'Cathy! Heathcliff!_ ' moment. As Jamie picked up speed and almost ran to him, grabbing him into a firm hug! 

"You fucking mad sod......!" Was his opening line.

"......can't believe you fucking did that! And Laura didn't say a bloody word! Mystery envelope....I ask you! Plane tickets.....you daft cunt! Must have cost you a fucking fortune! She went totally apeshit when she got your text and opened the envelope......jumping up and down.....like a raving loony! Then I had Nance on the phone, shrieking like a fucking banshee, when you messaged her!"

"Couldn't get wed without you mate.....you're my best friend! Are the others here yet?" 

"Angela and Guy............they were on the same fucking flight! We had a bloody party coming over!! It was a hoot!" 

"That's good! I hope there are no delays! It's all on a knife edge." 

"So how long was this in the planning then? You sly dog?" 

"Ever since Sam came home." Malcolm swallowed heavily, his face wistful. "She came back to me Jamie. Wonderful woman that she is! I thought I'd fucking lost her. Never wanted to feel like that again. So I got to thinking......" 

"And scheming!!" His friend laughed. "You're up fucking early too!" 

"Yeah......last minute nerves.....couldn't sleep.....empty bed too.....Eveline took Sam away....said she needed her beauty sleep.....said it was bad luck to spend the last night as a spinster with me." 

"She's damn right! So! What's the plan Stan?" 

"Lazy morning......Sam'll be getting herself ready.....Eveline's daughter is gonna help her, she's a hairdresser, apparently!.....and they'll keep her out of the way till it's time for the ceremony......catering lasses will set up back at the house, under the pergola. A few things to set up down here......there's a canopy thing apparently, for shade, and music and stuff.....I've gotta get myself ready.....that won't fucking take long.......that's about it.......you'll stand with me though.....won't you? Hold my hand!" 

"Course I fucking will! I got you man.....you know that!" 

"I'm fucking shitting myself! Just want it to be right.....y'know?"

oOo

Malcolm Tucker buttoned his shirt to the neck. 

Eveline bought him an orchid for his button hole. 

"You're really quite handsome! You know that Mr Malcolm, sir?" She smiled, regarding him from head to foot, then brushing imaginary dust from his lapel. Malcolm frowned a response. 

"Now get yourself off.....everything is set.....we'll give you fifteen minutes, then bring Sam down.....right?" 

"Check!" He saluted. 

Malcolm was white as a sheet. He hoped his sunglasses would hide it a little, but the sun cream on his nose didn't help! 

Waiting on the beach, seated on rattan chairs, arranged on rush matting, were a tearful Nancy, already dabbing her eyes with a tissue, 'Mac' McDonald, beside them a VERY excited Alex and Caitlin....Alex sporting a kilt with a waistcoat and bow tie.

Not terribly 'beach wedding' but he insisted!! 

Angela and Guy Heaney. 

Paul Cassidy and Gretchen, whom Malcolm had a chance to speak to when they arrived, discovering gratefully that he had been forgiven. Paul no longer wanted to punch his fucking head in, as he'd threatened. Gretchen held him really tight when they met, and whispered to him, 

"What you've done here is perfect Malcolm.....and I know Sam will love you forever, I'm so happy for you both this day......and thank you so much for sending those tickets.....we would have come anyway you know?" 

Malcolm pulled back. 

"I know love, but this was my treat......I wanted to do it.....I wanted everyone I love to be here with us.....and I didn't know how else to wangle it......" 

Laura McDonald, beautiful, as ever, in a long floral dress and a pink floppy hat. Who clasped his face in her hands and squeezed it. "You're a dear!" She whispered, kissing him. 

And, of course, Jamie. 

Standing by the little curtains on poles that had been bashed into the sand. 

Next to his best and dearest friend. 

Who, by now, was green around the gills. Visibly struggling. 

Far more of a mess than Jamie had been on his big day. 

An emotional, nervous wreck. Unable to eat anything, he was, therefore, feeling queasy mainly because his stomach was so empty. 

He kept feeling that he was going to start crying. Ridiculous! It kept creeping up on him, he'd be okay one moment, then his eyes would water, and his chest would give a heave, his mouth lose control.  
He stood beside Jamie.....looking down at his own loafers, puffing. 

"Fucking hell man......calm yourself!" 

"Shit! Such a fucking Jessie......can't control it Jamie......I've wanted a day like this all my fucking life.....this isn't anything like last time......this is the real deal.......fuck! Jamie.....I just love her so fucking much.....yeah? Christ! I need to sit down......" He swayed.

"Bollocks.....you're not gonna faint are you? Nancy! Bring me that water bottle! Jesus Christ! Man down!" 

Nancy hurried over, dragging a chair, plonking her brother unceremoniously onto it, then grabbing him by the back of the neck she forced his head down between his knees. 

"Breathe Malc! You'll be fine......this sun is hot.......and I don't suppose you had breakfast?"

Malcolm shook his head. 

"Bloody typical! Here....eat this....it's an energy bar!" From her handbag she produced the snack. 

"Who are you.....Mary fucking Poppins?" Malcolm asked weakly. 

"No! You arse! I'm the mother of two permanently ravenous children!" 

"Shit.....here comes the Magistrate! Scoff that down Malcolm.....and have a swig of water......quickly now!" 

oOo

Malcolm had chosen Frank Sinatra singing _'All the Way'_ as the song to play when Sam arrived. 

He hoped she'd remember. 

It was the song they'd danced to at her friend's wedding do, when she'd been given such a hard time. He sung the words in her ear that evening, held her close. It meant a lot.  
Since then, it reappeared on several different occasions, unlooked for.  
It was played when they attended Julius Nicholson's Burns Night party, and again when they stayed in Madeira both times, each time he'd led her onto the dance floor, it unofficially become 'their' song. 

Turning now, to look for her, settling himself. 

Here she came.

Walking across the sand. 

In her long white dress, looking like a flower child, a hippy, with her hair down, in soft waves, framing her face, decorated with orange blossoms. Each pale white flower having five petals, like a halo of stars. 

Carrying a bouquet of tropical flowers wrapped in folded banana leaf. 

"Fuck me! She looks like a goddess......" Malcolm whispered, leaning into his best man.

"Can't argue with you there mate!" Jamie muttered, steadying him. 

As she realised all her friends and family were gathered there, even her beloved brother.....she gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth.  
A beaming smile then radiated across her face, as she waved and blew kisses to them all. 

Malcolm's hand strayed unconsciously towards his neck. Straightening an imaginary tie.  
Clearing his throat, although he didn't need to. 

She reached his side, under the little arbour, and paused, looking up into her groom's anxious face. 

"Thank you!" She mouthed. 

His legs felt weak as jelly. His heart pounding. His chest almost painful with the love he felt right at that moment as their eyes locked. 

"I fucking love you Sam!" He murmured under his breath. 

She smiled up at him with such warmth that he almost buckled, she reached out her hand to him and he took it, she went up on tiptoes and whispered into his ear. 

"I fucking love you too!" 

oOo

It was over. 

They were husband and wife. 

A ring and a certificate to prove it. 

They ate and drank and made a merry party. Jamie made a speech. Malcolm did too, although he was so choked throughout, it was difficult for him to get his words out. 

The afternoon ended, melting into a beautiful sunset, so the wedding party all took themselves off for a stroll along the beach, the men with their trousers rolled up, feet in the surf.  
Malcolm never once let go of Sam's hand. Couldn't stop looking at her radiance.  
Fuck! She was all he ever wanted, and she was his! What a lucky fucker! 

Before returning to continue where they left off, they all watched the velvet Caribbean night fall on the beach, the stars come out and the tree frogs started to sing. 

A hush descending over the party, as the day came to a close. 

Sam and Malcolm wandered alone through the lantern lit garden. Snatching a few quiet moments together away from the celebrations.  
The music and laughter of the throng away behind them. The moon was round and high. Shining down, making a silver path across the sea. 

"Happy darl?" Malcolm asked, thickly. 

"Deliriously!" She replied, her arms coming up and fastening around his neck, pulling him down to her level.

"That's it now....we've done it.....you're my wife!.......Hello everyone, this is my wife! Good evening, this is Mrs Tucker.....she's my wife....." He tested out the words to see how they sounded. 

Sam laughed, her nose almost touching his. 

"Just a moment.....I'll have to ask my husband." She responded in kind. "How do you do? This is Malcolm, he's my husband. My name is Mrs Samantha Tucker. Pleased to meet you!" 

His arms clasped at the small of her back, he inclined his head, as she raised hers. The kiss was deep and long and neither wanted it to stop.  
A little whimper from her as his tongue teased, seeking entrance, before she willingly let him in, pressing herself against him, her fingers gripping the curls at the back of his neck. 

The lanterns illuminated the pair in perfect silhouette. 

Unashamedly snogging! 

Nancy nudged Mac. 

"You never bloody kiss me like that!" She observed. 

"Your brother has always been a fucking randy bastard!" He retorted. "No wonder he managed to attract a girl like Sam! Christ Almighty! Is he eating her face? It's fucking pornographic......anyone would think they'd just got hitched! They really should get a fucking room! Seriously!"


	28. Loved Up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The week following the Big Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a hot chapter this one. Probably the deepest of their love life yet. Really in the zone. Both exploring, and enjoying the other.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.  
LOVED UP. 

Malcolm Tucker felt as though he was in some kind of crazy acid trip. One that he might have had in his misspent youth! 

A haze settled over him which appeared real, but couldn't possibly be. 

High. On love. 

It was a powerful, mind expanding drug. 

Malcolm was almost fifty, and he'd never felt like this before in his life. 

He really didn't want it to wear off, although reason told him it had to. 

Perhaps it was something to do with being relaxed, well rested. De-stressed.

Waking each morning, with Sam draped over him. 

Naked. Fragrant. Beautiful. 

A gold band around her finger. 

His wife. 

It was just un-fucking-believable. 

He'd lost count of how many times they'd made love. 

If he wasn't hard, he was thinking about being hard. 

Why that should be, he wasn't quite sure. It wasn't as if anything had fundamentally changed. They were exactly the same two people they were before the 'Big Day'. 

If Malcolm had harboured any nagging doubts about his virility, they were dispelled over the week of his honeymoon.

He managed perfectly adequately thank you very much!

Sam seemed to catch his mood and embraced it wholeheartedly. 

She was his. 

She wanted to be his.

Enjoying the new sensation of belonging. 

It proved to be a most powerful aphrodisiac. 

Apparently she couldn't get enough of him. He often referred to her as a naughty minx....well, she was certainly that at the moment.  
Couldn't leave him alone.

At any given moment she would give him THAT look. 

He'd blush with the intensity of it. Deep arousal in her eyes. Which never failed to make his groin stir. 

Today she was sitting at the table beside him, they were enjoying a coffee. 

Their thighs touching beneath the tablecloth. Her hand began to stroke his leg. His glance flicked to her face, she was licking her lips provocatively.  
Then, leaning towards him, her mouth close to his ear, she whispered,

"I'm not wearing anything under this dress......"

Malcolm's eyes grew wide with alarm. Feeling himself stiffen instantly. 

"Fucking hell Sam.....you're a raving nympho....." 

She parted her knees slightly under the table, then put his hand between her legs. 

"Feel me! It's all for you.....I'm yours." She murmured, dreamy eyed. 

Malcolm raised a hand to the waiter. 

"Could I have the bill please?" 

oOo

By the time they reached their room Malcolm was so ragingly hard he could hardly walk, his trousers painfully uncomfortable. 

Throwing the key and his wallet aside he grabbed her and hauled her towards him.  
Kissing her almost in a frenzy. 

"Fucking hell Sam......be naughty for me.....I want it......bad......but no _'sir'_ this time.....okay? 

She began stroking him through his pants, his zip undone. 

"How would you like to take me?" She asked sweetly, pulling his waistband down, exposing just the tip of him, before sucking on her index finger, then circling the head of his penis with it. He hissed and bucked forwards at the touch.

Crazed with lust. 

"Bend over!" He commanded. "Here!"

Moving her to the table, she lay herself down on her stomach across it, hitching up her dress and baring her beautiful arse to him.  
He leaned over her back, to kiss her neck, then began squeezing and caressing her butt cheeks.  
"Arms out to the sides!" 

She obeyed immediately. 

"Please Malcolm." She whimpered. "Please! Touch me." 

He kicked at her feet. 

"Wider!" He demanded. "I wanna see what's mine." 

She spread her legs apart as wide as she could as his fingers pushed between them, making her gasp. 

"Oh! God! Malcolm......yes.......please......" 

He was touching her, bringing her close, but as he felt her begin to lose control, he stopped, pulled his hand away, leaving her panting and breathless. 

"Nooooo!" She cried. 

"You don't get to say......it's down to me if you get to come or not......I'll make you wait if you get too sassy with me......" 

"No Malcolm please......." She begged. "Tell me what you'd like......what I can do for you, I'll do anything, only please, touch me there some more......." 

"I think I'll fuck you like this for a bit instead.....are you ready for me?" 

"Yes......but I so wanna come......." 

He ignored her. Pushing inside her and thrusting hard. His groin bumping against the backs of her legs. 

She groaned beneath him as he took his pleasure, whilst denying hers, not giving her quite enough stimulation to reach her climax, keeping her frustratingly on the edge. 

She attempted a different gambit. 

"Let me worship you, use my mouth on you....let me pleasure you and show you how much I want you......" She pleaded. "Please Malcolm......please let me......" 

Pulling out of her, he turned her over onto her back, his hand inside her dress, fondling her nipples gently between his fingers until she moaned with need. 

"Do it then.....show me......then perhaps I might allow you a reward......now get down! Hands behind your back...."

She sank to her knees with such a look of gratitude and rapture that it made his head reel. 

The way she threw herself into this scenario astonished him, she was in the moment, she loved it.....and God help him, so did he. 

Prevented from using her hands, she commenced licking and caressing him with her tongue, kissing, teasing and sucking him until he was just about ready to explode. 

Christ! But she fucking turned him on so much like this, did she really have any idea how good she made him feel?  
He wanted to come all over her, as well as inside her......take her......make her his......shit.......he wanted to get her pregnant.

Bollocks! Where had that come from? Why had that particular thought popped unbidden into his head? 

He had to admit, it wasn't the first time......but......holy crap......they'd only been married five minutes! 

Looking down on her, as her eyes looked up into his. She was lost in a haze of such arousal, focused entirely on him. His pleasure before her own.  
He pulled away from her, and seeing her momentary disappointment, he bent and kissed her mouth. She leaned into him, almost falling forwards as he backed away.

"Good girl." He said, not unkindly. "You've earned my tongue.....would you like that?" 

"Oh yes! Malcolm please.....yes.....I would.......oh God......." 

He laid her back onto the floor. Taking her hands and placing her arms above her head. Kneeling up, he parted her knees and she spread herself wide for him, showing him everything, inviting him to begin, trying not to look as desperate for his attention as she undoubtedly was. 

Leaning forwards he teased her with his mouth very gently.  
"Lay still." He ordered. "Keep your arms up. No thrusting your hips forwards, no little sounds.....and if you speak you must speak normally......or I stop.....get it?" 

She nodded. 

She was gone, completely in the zone, a headspace where she dangled at his every whim, he'd never seen her as deep as this before.  
It filled him with almost uncontrollable lust. 

He repeated the touch, this time with the warm tip of his tongue. He could see her struggling to obey his new rules.

"You like that don't you?" 

"Yes Malcolm." 

"Tell me how much." 

"I love it Malcolm. More than anything. Please do it some more. Please." She kept her voice even through sheer willpower. 

He licked and kissed her there, eliciting the tiniest whimper, her eyes fluttering shut. 

"Eyes open!" He demanded. "I know you're close. You don't come.....you understand?" 

"Yes Malcolm." Her voice was faint, almost a sob, although she tried to make it sound unaffected. 

"You'll thank me when I do decide to let you come......the climax will be all the better for the waiting....." He was stroking her gently now with his fingers, right over her most sensitive point, until she was biting her lip in a desperate bid not to tip over into glorious pleasure. 

"I think perhaps I'll stop now." He said, straightening up. "Have you finish me off, or I'll fuck you again till I come myself. Then we'll sleep.....or go out to dinner, how does that sound?" 

A single tear came out from under her lashes. 

"If that's what pleases you Malcolm." She said softly. 

"Suck me then.....take it down......" He stood over her, dripping precum, his thighs trembling with suppressed desire. 

She scrambled up, eager to satisfy him, if only he would relent and allow her relief. 

It didn't take long to bring him close again, and yet still he backed off. 

"Something new to try....." He said. "Turn onto your side....." 

She obeyed him meekly, turning, presenting her arse to face him, he lifted her top leg, placing it over his shoulder. Thus opening her very wide. 

He teased her until she pleaded for mercy.

"You want this?" He asked, pressing his erection close to her entrance, but not going in.

"God, yes! Malcolm. Please. Fuck me......" 

He entered her slowly, almost pulling out fully, before shafting in again, grazing her clitoris each time. She gasped at the angle of penetration and the powerful sensation he was giving her. Christ but he was drawing this out.  
She moaned helplessly with every thrust. 

"What do you want Sam?.......Say it?" 

"Please Malcolm. I want to come......." She sobbed.

"Not yet......" He hissed, almost withdrawing again. 

"Oh God.....please, please Malc.....please say I can.....I'm so close....."

"Alright! As you've been such a good girl, I'll allow it......you may come.....come for me....Sam, come for me now."

She gave a series of frantic gasps as his words sank in, before she began to let go.

"What do you say to me?" He hissed, as he picked up speed, holding himself off as long as he could. 

"Thank you! Thank you Malcolm.....oh God.......oh shit.......Fuucckkk!" 

She began to cry out as her inner body pulsed strongly, in a deep and protracted orgasm.  
She forced her body hard against him, taking him fully inside her, willing him on to his own climax. 

"Malcolm!! Give it to me! I want to have your baby!! Oh fuckkk fuckkk! I love you!" 

She collapsed down, with him still inside her, as he pulsed his last. 

Weak and trembling. Overwhelmed and overcome. 

"Shit! Shit! Fuck. Thank you Malc. Thank you!" She breathed, then started to cry. 

"Hey! Hey! Come on......Sam......you're okay!" He withdrew from her, still dripping, gathering her into his arms and comforting her. 

She was still undulating her hips, still feeling the final throes......panting with the strength of it.  
Clinging to him. 

"Well! That was pretty fucking nuclear." He puffed. "And what was that I heard? Something about a baby in there.....wasn't there? Where the fuck did that come from? Christ Almighty!" 

Nope. It was no good, she couldn't reply, she was a grizzling, boneless, post coital mess. 

"You've never made me come that hard before.....or be so 'lost in the moment'....it was so strong...." She sobbed. " I want to come off The Pill Malc.....I don't want to take it any more......Mr Faversham suggested it to me months ago, said I should 'make other arrangements', but I held off.....he said the contraceptive pill can sometimes have a bearing on depression......" 

Malcolm was incredulous. 

"Christ! Why the fuck didn't you say so? Sam! Really! You could have stopped taking it straight away......months ago!  
I could have used rubbers....anything.....for Christ's sake.....taking that hormone shit if there's even the slightest chance it might be making your condition worse.......? Jesus!!" 

"I couldn't think about that then. There was just so much stuff going on.....and I didn't want to face it.....or worry about it......it was just convenient.......but now.......well.......now......." 

"Now you don't fucking have to! Now we're married! I'm your husband. You're my wife. It doesn't matter any more! You really want to consider this? I mean, using nothing at all?" 

"Yes!" She snuggled against his chest, still sniffing. "Remember when I thought it had happened before? Ages ago? I was convinced......and I was so thrilled Malcolm......but I knew I wasn't expecting really, not in my heart of hearts.....I just wanted it to be true......you said then that you felt the same? Do you still?" 

"Fuck yeah! It's what I've always wanted. A family of my own. But Sam......just a note of warning.......let's not be pressured eh? Let's not be in tears every month when you come on and it hasn't happened.....let's try not make it a big deal. If it happens then.....great.....but I'm nearly fifty......it might not ever happen......it might even be impossible......have you considered that?" 

"Of course. But I'll face that if and when. I'm not going to worry about it. You are pretty fit, healthy and strong and I'm sure there's a little Tucker in there somewhere......." 

She squeezed his scrotum gently, fondling him, it made him wince. 

"Fuck! Stop Sam! Right now......after that frankly amazing last hour.....I need a fucking nap! No more fucking or babies today!! Okay?" 

She smiled. 

"Alright! But you're seriously okay with me coming off The Pill? No more contraception? So soon?" 

"I'm more than fine with it. Especially if there's a chance it's making you ill! I'm cross with you for not telling me, and not taking Faversham's advise! Christ, you're so fucking stubborn sometimes! When this honeymoon is over......well......we'll see what happens.....in the meantime......we'll have all the fun of trying!" 

"I know, and I'm sorry. But I just couldn't face up to it, or deal with it, not then. But now.....well, things are different. God! I feel completely wiped out by that last session.......Malcolm.....seriously, that was amazing......I love you so much......let's have a little siesta hmm?" 

He yawned. Rolling onto his back, as she snuggled into his side. 

"This past two weeks has been the happiest of my life. I know it's all new and it's not always going to be like this.....but honestly.....Malc.....I'll never forget coming here......you've made me your wife, it's all I ever wanted and I'm so very very happy......." 

"I keep thinking I'll fucking wake up.......pinching myself......what have I done to deserve it? I'll never forget or lose sight of the fact that I almost lost you, Sam. That it almost didn't happen. Let's enjoy our last couple of days......then when we get back......we'll talk more about our future....together......yeah?"

"Like what?" She said sleepily. 

"Like what I'm going to do with myself workwise......like what we want from our marriage......children included......like what you want to do, or not do......the monetary side of things, I'll have to make a new Will.......all that stuff......it's important, I'm much older than you.....and we need to discuss it......"

"Mmmm hmm." Her breathing became deeper and she let out a small sigh of contentment. 

"I also want to talk to you about what we do........you know......bedroom stuff.....and how I feel now......Sam?" 

Only measured breathing answered him. He smiled to himself. 

Placed a kiss against her hair, then whispered,

"You've made me into a whole person.....shown me delights I never thought I'd ever experience......taught me about myself, my desires, my fantasies.....everything.....you've let me explore them with you.....embraced them with me.....and I fucking love you for it......." 

"Hmmmm!" She murmured. 

His eyes drifted closed. He fell asleep. Malcolm Tucker. Husband. Lover. Friend. 

Complete.


	29. Future.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm is mulling over things. 
> 
> Thinking about the future. His and Sam's.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.  
FUTURE.

The most dismal, cold, grey, February day. 

Rain turning to sleet. 

The roof tops of the houses opposite shiny and wet. As if the slates had been polished. In the street the people hurried by, bent against the weather. Their coats gripped at the neck. Trussed up in hats and scarves, gloves and boots. 

Malcolm had been awake for some time. 

He missed the early morning walk down the beach, before it got too hot. The sound of the waves. The gentle breeze. 

Life was readjusting to its former pace. 

Early morning swims at the baths.

Pilates or a run for Sam. 

She'd been seeing Mr Faversham again, although he was more of a security blanket now than anything else.  
There was a reluctance to sever the tie, just in case. But she seemed quite her old self again. 

Their mutual matrimonial happiness hadn't worn off. She still glowed with it. 

"Goodnight my dearest husband....." She whispered to him, before sleeping. Made a fucking great lump clog his throat! 

He thanked the Gods for each day he woke with her lying beside him. 

Unaware that he constantly fiddled with the wedding ring on his finger, twisting it, playing with it, turning it with the thumb of his left hand. 

As with most media stories, the furore surrounding them died down. Malcolm and his story were all but forgotten. 

Mannion still appeared occasionally, as did the Tickel family, and the Tucker name might crop up from time to time, but the exposure was minimal.

Malcolm was now seriously thinking about his future. 

He'd had nothing in the way of employment since resigning from his role as Senior Communications Officer at the end of The Goolding Inquiry.

It was true that his abuse compensation payout left him more or less financially secure, with his careful investment, but he felt he needed something. A purpose. A goal, some aim to work towards. 

His past was securely founded in Journalism, his communications skills, whilst perhaps unconventional, were nevertheless, excellent and highly prized.  
In short, he was fucking good at what he did. 

To that end he'd spoken to Laura McDonald. She worked in PR, and was an astute, extremely well respected businesswoman.  
She felt his attributes would be best used in the field of Corporate Marketing.  
Her exact words were,

"Malcolm, you would excel at this.....you could sell sand to the Arabs!" 

So this seed was planted in his mind. 

Quiet research, the idea forming of setting up his own company. He fervently hoped that Sam would come into the project with him, perhaps be his right hand, as she'd always been, from the earliest days. 

As yet he'd not really discussed his plans with her. There had only been preliminary meetings with Laura, to thrash out some vague ideas. 

She'd offered to help him set up. 

Suddenly he was excited about the prospect. All that remained now was to chat to his wife about it. 

His wife.

Never would he tire of thinking or saying those words. 

Introducing Sam to new people, speaking them out loud.....he was so proud. 

_"And this is my lovely wife......Sam......"_

He was smiling to himself even now, as he mused. 

Only the day before he'd visited his solicitor. Drawn up a new Will.  
Leaving everything to Sam and any children they might have. Placing his house in their joint names. Altering some of his investments into her name only.....who'd a thunk...a wife was tax deductible!?  
He was mindful of the fact that the odds were firmly on him dying long before her, and when he did, she must be properly taken care of, financially secure.  
It was most important to him. 

He needed to talk to her about that too. Tell her what he'd done. 

A chirrup beside him told him that Ramsey had sauntered into the room. 

As usual, the cat had completely ignored them both for three days after their return from honeymoon.  
Punishing them. 

Now, apparently they were forgiven. 

Normal service resumed. 

He jumped up onto Malcolm's lap, as he sat at his desk. A coffee at his elbow. 

"Hello fella!" He stroked the velvety ears and elicited a thundering purr. 

The cat rubbed his face against Malcolm's affectionately, as if to say, "good morning human!" 

"What would you think about an addition to the household....hey boy?" He stroked a thumb across the furry head. "Would that put your nose out of joint?" 

No answer came to his query. The cat just purred on unperturbed. 

If Malcolm was honest with himself, he was a little worried about the sudden development on the baby front.  
Normally he was not one to mull over things that were out of his control. Nor was he a 'glass half empty' man. 

Of course it was what he wanted. 

More than anything, had for a while if he was being truthful. 

He knew that, as Sam was young and fit, he had more of a chance of having a family with her, than if he'd fallen for someone nearer his own age. 

But he was concerned. 

Could he father a child? 

Could he give her what she clearly wanted too? Fuck, but he hoped so! 

What he was most scared of, was that it would become all encompassing, that if it didn't happen, Sam would become depressed again.  
Fixated on becoming a mother, disappointed when it didn't happen.  
It put a great deal of pressure on him, even though Sam assured him it would be fine. That she wasn't bothered.  
He rather feared having to undergo tests, wanking into a plastic pot, being poked and prodded, told he was inadequate, procedures to find out what might be wrong, and he knew his age was a major factor against him.  
The potential look on her face if he had to tell her there was little or no chance. 

Would it then sour their wonderful relationship? Become a wedge of sadness between them? 

He buried his head into Ramsey's soft coat. 

Really, he ought not to fret about this now. The time to be concerned would be a year or so hence, when he'd failed to get her pregnant. 

'Fuck this Malcolm. Stop thinking this way!' 

He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. 

Turning his concentration back to his laptop. 

It was a little later, when, engrossed in the screen before him, he felt arms come around his neck, and little kisses placed there. 

Turning, he beheld her. 

Tousled and still sleepy. Smelling gorgeous. 

"Morning love. You okay?" 

She snuggled into his shoulder, with a contented hum. 

"How long have you been down here working?" 

"An hour or so.....couldn't sleep.....I'm back on Number Ten time!" 

"It's still early......come back to bed?" 

He swivelled himself round in the chair, to face her. Threaded his arms around her middle as she stood before him. Pressing his face against her stomach. 

"I fucking love you......wife." His voice was muffled, close to the fabric of her robe. 

"I love you too.....husband." She smiled, stroking her fingers through his hair. 

"What are you mulling over? Sitting down here alone.....why couldn't you sleep?" 

"Nothing really.....just stuff.....I didn't want to disturb you......"

She pulled away from him, raising his face to look at her own.

"You know something? You are the most crap liar ever!" She looked stern, but her eyes were soft. "So, come on, spit it out.......tell me......no secrets, remember?" 

He sighed. Resigned. 

Told her the thoughts he'd just been churning in his head. 

Seating herself across his lap, she took his face in her hands, and kissed him thoroughly. 

"Malcolm.....please believe me......my whole life doesn't revolve around having a child.....if we don't have one.....well, we don't.......my mission in life is not solely focused on motherhood. If I was that bothered, and I didn't get pregnant, I'd look into adoption......but really.....please don't feel pressured about this. I don't want you to.  
_'Que sera sera.'_  
If it's just gonna be just you and me, then so be it. I'll accept that it wasn't meant to be.  
Of course I'd like it to happen, but I'm sensible enough to know there's a chance it might not. That was never my main concern when I fell in love with you.  
Does that make you feel any better?" 

"Fuck! Sam! But I fucking adore you!" He whispered. 

"Come on.....let's go back to bed......then we'll have some breakfast and chill out.....we've no plans for today......have we?" 

"Nope. None whatever. But I want to discuss some stuff with you......about my....our.....future......so I thought we'd go out to lunch......somewhere nice......?" 

"Sounds lovely! Sunday pub roast and a bottle of red......what could be nicer?" 

He kissed her gently, his lips soft against hers. 

"Mmmm!" She breathed. "You taste of coffee!" 

At that moment the phone rang. 

Sam reached across to answer it. 

"Hello? Angela! You're up early, what's the matter?" 

"Nothing's the matter particularly, but I thought you might not have heard......the PM has just announced a second Inquiry. It's on the News. He's bowed to public pressure....almost 500,000 signatures to the petition alone! The Tickel family have won!"


	30. Sam Shines.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some news. 
> 
> And a letter. 
> 
> Something they've both been waiting for, for a very long time. Closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just kinda happened. Or at least part of it did. 
> 
> I knew roughly where it was headed, but the last part was necessary. To show how far Malcolm has come. How at ease he now is. 
> 
> I felt that was important.

CHAPTER THIRTY.  
SAM SHINES.

 

_Some months later......_

Malcolm entered the bedroom to find his wife sitting on top of her suitcase, trying to zip it up. 

"What the f......?" 

"Oh Malc!! Help me.....I've got too much stuff!!" 

"We are only away a week for crying out loud!" 

"But I need all my wedding outfit.....shoes, hat, you name it......" 

Malcolm sat down beside her bumping up and down a few times. 

She fastened the case and hopped to the floor. 

"YES!! Get in!!" She said, giving a fist pump.

Malcolm laughed heartily. 

The pair were finally going.....to the wedding that had been postponed twice. Gretchen's father had been too ill to travel, and had then subsequently passed away, when the wedding had been already been rearranged for the second time. Leaving them to attend a funeral instead of what should have been their happy day. 

So, third time lucky. 

Spring was here. 

They had not been idle.  
The previous months spent viewing premises, researching, finding contacts.  
Several old journalist friends had been in touch, and many people who, in a previous life, wouldn't have given Malcolm Tucker the time of day. 

Not that he cared much. 

It was all valuable publicity. 

His first employee was a certain Mrs Samantha Tucker, née Cassidy, PA extraordinaire!  
With her usual calm efficiency, she took on the filing, the paperwork, the appointments, provided the coffee and sandwiches, soothed the savage beast, just as she'd always done. 

Déjà vu. 

Malcolm couldn't have been happier, and if his morning coffee was sometimes accompanied by a loving smooch, who was he to complain? 

Life was good. 

Getting this business off the ground had been a huge deal for him, and she was right there, by his side, all the way. 

He worked hard. Just as he'd always done. Malcolm Tucker was never afraid to put the hours in. Never work shy. 

The danger was he'd throw himself into it all with too much gusto. 

But no. 

This wasn't the same man who walked out of the Party offices two years ago. 

Now he knew how to temper himself, combine work with play. Take time off if needs be. 

Like now. 

A week in the States. 

His wife.....(he still couldn't get enough of saying those words)......his wife, since she'd stopped taking the oral contraceptive pill, had been heaps better generally.  
Her mien improved considerably, fewer headaches, less bloating and no more crazy mood swings.  
The downside was that she couldn't predict quite so accurately when her period would come, and when it did she sometimes suffered bad belly ache.  
In bed at night Malcolm would curl her up with a hot water bottle, or he would place his large warm hand just above her pubic bone and rub gently to soothe her until she fell asleep. 

Right now Sam was terribly excited. So much so she was almost sick with it. She adored weddings and was terribly anxious to see her beloved brother again. 

Malcolm watched her surreptitiously as she put on her makeup. 

She was glowing. 

The euphoria of being wed hadn't really worn off for either of them. 

Well, perhaps there was a _little_ less rampant sex......but everything was still as wonderful. 

Malcolm considered himself the luckiest of men. 

oOo

It was a fortnight after they returned from Boston. 

Malcolm was laying along the full length of the sofa, Ramsey in his favourite place, curled on his chest.  
Allegedly he was watching TV, what he was actually doing was napping. 

Sam was in the kitchen.  
Allegedly she was making dinner, what she was actually doing was staring into space. 

She couldn't concentrate.  
Laying aside the vegetable knife, she wiped her hands on a tea towel and taking a deep breath, she wandered through to the lounge. 

"Malc?" 

He opened his eyes lazily. 

"What is it hun.....you want a hand with dinner?" 

"Er, no." 

She stood before him, looking down. Something about her stance and her face, alerted him. 

"What's wrong?" He sat up and patted the cushion next to him. She joined him on the sofa, leaning in. 

"I, er......well......I'm not really quite sure, but......"

His arm snaked around her shoulder. 

"You're worried about something....I can tell, what is it?" 

"Don't get too excited Malc......but I haven't come on.......I was due before we went to Paul's." 

"But that's over a fortnight ago......." 

"I know! But since I've been off the pill, it's been a bit.....well, erratic......so I didn't attach too much importance to it......but it STILL hasn't come. I think I might be pregnant......" 

Malcolm could tell she was like a taut bow string, waiting to let go, he was careful not to over react. 

He took a few deep breaths. 

"Okaaayy! Maybe get a test kit then........?" 

"I bought one today......" 

"And?" His voice trembled. 

"And, I haven't used it yet......." 

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. 

".....well......I wanted to wait......so we could do it together......."

He smiled and placed a little kiss on the side of her head. 

"Go get it.....let's see what you need to do." 

She gave a little squeak of nervous excitement, jumping up, running to her handbag. Returning and handing the box to him.  
Tearing open the cardboard he read the instructions aloud, as she snuck close to him on the sofa again, their shoulders touching. 

"Okay.....it says open test kit, um...in bathroom, um.....you need to pee on the stick.....mid flow....so you pee a bit, then stick the wand thing into the urine flow for the count of five, business end facing downwards, then finish off......" 

"Then what?" 

"Then you place it down window uppermost and wait 1 to 5 minutes. Before reading off the result. Two blue lines mean you're pregnant.....one means you're not!" 

He turned to her, his face an unreadable mask. 

"Fuck Sam! For Christ's sake! Come on.....upstairs! Let's do this." 

He followed behind her, finding it difficult to keep his emotion down, to stay calm.  
Inside, his heart was hammering. 

She tore open the foil and he turned to walk away. 

"Where the hell are you going?" She demanded.

"I'll wait outside.....surely you don't need me to stand here and watch you tiddle.....!" 

Her laugh was shrill and shaky. 

"God! Malc.....I'm terrified.....this is ridiculous! Listen.....if it's negative......no tears okay? We are NOT going to do this......we swore......if it doesn't happen, it doesn't....."

"Oh just piss for the love of God! I'm fucking shitting a Lego garage here!" 

Silence for a few moments. 

"What's wrong?" He called through the door. 

"I can't fucking well go now!!"

He reentered.

"Right! This is like a bloody farce! I'll run the fucking sink taps!" He was trying to keep himself from breaking into manic laughter. 

From outside the toilet door he counted off the seconds, as he listened to the tinkling sound of his wife, doing a pee......Christ! The joys of matrimony! 

"You done?" He enquired.

"Yep, you can come in now!" 

He rejoined her, sitting himself down on the tiled floor, while she sat on top of the loo seat, her hands trapped between her knees.  
Watching the seconds tick by on his wristwatch. Distractedly running his hands through his hair, tugging at his beard thoughtfully.

"Time's up!" He said quietly, swallowing the lump that threatened to gag him. 

She picked up the test stick, holding her breath. He peered over her shoulder. 

Two blue lines. 

_"Oh, holy fuck!_ " Malcolm exclaimed. Swaying where he stood. A little puff of air escaping in a whistle through his pursed lips. 

Sam hesitated. She seemed momentarily perplexed. 

"Two? That's positive isn't it? That means I'm pregnant? Yeah?" 

"You are! Oh my wonderful clever girl! You fucking are!!" Malcolm was quietly ecstatic. 

"Oh fucking fuckity bollocks! I'm gonna be a dad! Oh fuck Sam! Fuck.......but I love you!" 

He picked her up, swung her around, her legs in the air. 

He set her back onto her feet, kissed her.......

......then burst into tears. 

oOo

_Three months later......._

A letter, on official notepaper......

_"Dear Mr Tucker_

_You are required by law to present yourself at the new Inquiry hearing at the place and date shown below._

_At this hearing the following submissions will be reexamined:-_

_The events leading to the suicide of Mr Douglas Tickel on * date given *._

_The culture of leaking of confidential information in the Political arena._

_I have enclosed a copy of all relevant evidence from the investigation, that will be raised at the Inquiry._

_We will consider these documents, together with any evidence and submissions from you, during the hearing._

_If you would like to submit any documentation for consideration at the Inquiry, please let me have copies, along with the names of any witnesses you may wish to bring forward, by no later than 12 noon, 5 working days before the date given below._

_I will chair the Inquiry and a recorder *name inserted* will be present to take notes of the proceedings._

_You have a right, if you wish, to be accompanied at the Inquiry by a family member, work colleague or Trade Union representative not acting in a legal capacity._

_Should you wish for clarification on any of the details in this letter or anything else pertaining to this subject, please do not hesitate to contact me._

_Yours sincerely........."_

oOo

_Two months later......._

Cameras clicked as soon as the cab door opened at the kerbside. 

Malcolm got out, skirted round the back of the taxi, then opened the other passenger door, putting a hand inside for his wife to take. 

Helping her out. 

She smoothed herself down, as much as her shape would allow.  
Then clasped her fingers tightly around those of her husband, before they crossed the paved area which led towards the revolving door and into the building. 

The knot of press followed them all the way, scrambling over each other. A mic was shoved into Malcolm's face. Questions shouted at the pair. 

He smiled slightly, waved. But said nothing. 

Into the relative calm of the foyer. Where they could not follow. 

He took a moment. 

Arm protectively around his wife's back. 

"Okay Sam?" He asked gently. 

She looked up at him. Gave him a warm smile in return. Standing close. 

A camera clicked through the glass, this little moment between Mr and Mrs Tucker would soon appear on the front pages. 

Only a few even knew they were married. There'd been no public announcement. No photos. Nothing.

Angela kept resolutely silent. Even though Malcolm had given her permission to write a small piece. 

"No Malc. This isn't anyone's business but yours, and Sam's. This is something the public doesn't need to know about." 

The announcement of the second Inquiry had reawakened media interest in everything Tucker. 

Today someone noticed their rings. 

By the end of this day someone will have filched a picture from Gretchen's Facebook. 

Malcolm and Sam, a head shot, in Barbados on their wedding day. 

So the circus would all begin again. 

For a while at least. 

 

This time the Inquiry would be a little different. 

Sam had received a summons too. Her voice would be heard. 

Nicola Murray, seated in the second row, barely recognised her former colleague and Senior Communications Officer. The sight of him caught her quite by surprise. 

She hadn't seen him since the Mannion trial. 

On that occasion he looked so ill she thought he had something seriously wrong with him. Gaunt and thin and tired. 

Good God! 

The transformation. 

Thick lustrous steel grey curls, an equally luxuriant beard. His eyes bright and keen as mustard. 

Sharp angular face softened. Smile lines crinkling the corners of his mouth and eyes. 

He looked so well. 

His focus entirely on the woman at his side. 

They entered the row together, sidling along to their allotted seats. 

His arm hovering at the small of her back, all care and tenderness. Helping her to her seat. 

Sam.......her neat rounded belly going before her. 

Exuding radiance.

As they took their seats, his large hand rested on her bump gently for a second or two, she turned to look at him, a gaze so adoring that it made Nicola swallow hard as she watched. Sam's hand came round to rest atop his for a moment, as she sat, then held the same hand between both of hers in her lap. Her thumb stroking across his skin gently. 

Malcolm's gaze swept the room. Two laser points. Taking in everything and everyone. 

For a moment his eyes found Nicola's. Locked on. In seconds she quailed under the intensity. Glanced away. Reddening and squirming. 

Disarmed by the lack of fierceness she'd expected to see there, but which was entirely absent. 

There was a scraping of chairs as the panel members entered, people rising, the proceedings about to begin.  
Last to enter, the Tickel family, who visually sought out Malcolm, nodded cordially, then came over and shook hands, before taking their own seats. 

For them it was the culmination of all they'd struggled and fought for, so long and hard. 

For Malcolm, it was to be final closure. 

oOo

His jaw was set as his wife was ushered to the small podium. 

Raising her hand, taking the oath. 

"Given your condition, you are welcome to sit Mrs Tucker." 

She almost scoffed her derision. But stopped herself. 

"I'll be fine." She uttered curtly. 

"Well, if you need to stop or take a break at any time, please just ask." He continued. 

"I'm pregnant, not terminally ill." She said quietly. "I'll have a glass of water though."

A tumbler was duly placed in front of her. 

Malcolm's eyes never left her. He watched her with rapt attention. Indomitable.  
Refusing to be either swayed, flustered or sidelined.  
Once her name and position had been clarified, a little buzz filtered around the room at the name MRS TUCKER, many had no idea she and Malcolm were married. 

The questioning began.  
An attempt to belittle her, when asking how she could possibly know what was in Malcolm's hands that day backfired completely. 

"I'd like to ask you first, MRS Tucker, about the papers Mr Tucker had in his hand that day. The blow up picture of which was presented as evidence at the last Inquiry." 

"I know EXACTLY what was there. I know everything that left, or arrived on my desk on any given day. I know the photo to be falsified." She replied confidently. 

"It seems a remarkable feat!" Responded the examiner with mild amusement. 

"It was my job. Every phone call, every email. All appointments. All files and paperwork. I knew more about what went on in that office, than probably anyone else in this room.  
Eyes and ears. In the background.  
It is a great advantage to be considered as a lowly PA......people don't notice you. They ignore you, talk over you, treat you like you're invisible. They speak unguardedly, as if you're not even there. I could tell you more stories than you'd hear elsewhere in a month of Sundays. Yet no one ever asked me. Until now." 

"So, that was what it was like to work for Mr Tucker?" Her questioner smiled slightly. 

"No. Because HE never treated me like that. He was respectful and considerate. Which was more than I can say for most of the rest."

"So you liked working for him? He didn't bully you, as we've heard others say before." Sam glanced across at Oliver Reeder and scowled. 

"Never! I worked for him for more than five years. In government. Strictly as employer and employee. Then another two in Opposition. If I have to testify to his character then I will. He didn't like shirkers. He didn't like disloyalty. The incompetence of those powerful and in office and in the Service constantly angered him. They, largely, got what they deserved from him.  
But he was always aware of the 'little people'. The ones who went unrewarded.  
He made it his business to know about their families, their situations, their problems." 

"Quite saintly then!" 

"Not at all. It was his job. No one at this Inquiry is a saint. Including me. But leaking the medical details of a sick and vulnerable man? NEVER! Simple as that." 

"Well, it is the purpose of this Inquiry to get to the bottom of what happened to Mr Tickel."

"And not a moment before time. The Tickel family, and myself and my husband, have suffered enough. Lives have been ruined, blighted. Things have been said about us that you wouldn't say to your worst enemy. We've all endured almost two years of hell. During which we've had to fight for every bit of justice or answers that we can."

Nicola watched Malcolm's face closely. His mouth wobbled dramatically, as his eyes remained fixed on his wife. 

"Yes, Mrs Tucker.....well, we are not here to hear your views. Only your evidence......."

Sam interrupted. 

"No! I will speak! We were denied a trial, our chance to speak, in the face of newspaper articles and media vilification, and it's only now, down to the tenacity of the Tickel family and the public, that the PM has finally bowed to the pressure, allowing this second Inquiry, that we are standing here today. They've been dealt blow after blow, their man all but forgotten in the media circus this all became. It's a disgrace that it's taken this long.  
A man died.  
What followed was a carefully laid, carefully orchestrated pantomime. With my husband painted as the evil and dastardly villain. For everyone to boo and hiss at, then feel pleased with themselves as they walked away untarnished.  
Well, the day of judgement is here. The reckoning. Finally, we get to know the truth. It's been a heck of a long time coming!" 

Spontaneous applause rang out around the room as Sam resumed her seat. 

Nicola saw Malcolm lean into his wife, whispering something in her ear. It made her blush and smile at him, placing her hand in his once again. 

There was almost a stampede when they left the hearing that afternoon. Press gathered in huge numbers.  
Surrounded and jostled. 

Neither said a single word. Climbing into a waiting car. Driven off at speed. 

oOo

The end of a long fortnight. 

Malcolm was sitting on the pouffe. His wife's feet in his lap. 

She slumped back on the sofa, as he gently massaged her puffy feet and ankles. 

"Mmmm! Oh God, Malc......that's so good.....you have no idea!" 

She sighed with bliss. 

"Thank fuck it's all over!" 

"No doubt it'll be months before the report is published." Smoothing a hand over her burgeoning belly. "This little one will be born before we know the findings." She mused. 

Malcolm sat down on the couch beside her and she leaned against him with a yawn. 

"Fancy an early night?" He asked hopefully. 

"You're so funny, you know that?" Her smile was warm, as his hand rubbed across her stomach gently. 

"Why?" He asked. 

"How come you fancy me so much like this?" She pulled up her jumper, exposing the roundness of her stomach. "I look like a bloody Halloween pumpkin!" 

Malcolm moved side on to her, and reached down, kissing her tummy just above her belly button, which now stuck outwards rather oddly. 

"You look fabulous." He replied honestly. "Can I?"  
He held his large hands poised above her.

Sam laughed. 

"Of course! It's yours as much as mine.....go ahead!" 

The expression on her husband's face was one of rapture, as he began to move both hands across her swollen roundness, fingers splayed, applying a little pressure. 

It wasn't long before undulations beneath the skin began, the strangest thing to witness that Malcolm had ever seen. Like a ferret in a bag! 

Sam closed her eyes and relaxed. Giving in to the sensation. 

"Our baby knows it's daddy." She whispered. "It feels you....and hears your voice." 

His eyes grew wider with wonder as the kicking continued. 

"I wish I knew what that felt like.....him moving inside you like that......is it painful?" 

Sam shook her head. 

"Nah. It's just a kind of funny sensation, almost like a gripe.....but it doesn't hurt. You always refer to it as HIM.....it might be a little girl you know......" 

"I know, but I thought you always referred to an unborn as him.....if you don't know for sure?" 

"I'm glad we don't know.....I didn't want to, they did ask me.....you didn't want to either?" 

"Nope. I prefer not knowing, not that I mind either way." 

Sam sighed again, as he continued massaging her belly. 

"Malc?" She asked, her eyes fluttering closed.

"What is it sweetheart?" 

"I er......would you? Um......" 

"Would I what?" 

She opened her eyes dreamily, heavy lidded, searching his face, her gaze focusing on his lips. 

"Kiss me....." She said, softly, shifting her weight slightly beneath him, bringing her arms up and around his neck. 

Malcolm knew. 

He could see it in her eyes. 

_Need._

Her pupils wide and dark, chocolatey pools of desire. Drawing him in. He could dive into those eyes and never resurface.

"My hormones are playing havoc.....I've been thinking about you all day......your touch.....I just, I want......"

"You want me to love you?" Malcolm's hand circled lower on her abdomen, his voice becoming a rasp.

"Well. No. Not really.......oh Malc.....it's just.....I just want to come.......will you make me? Please?" 

His reply was to kiss her again, deep and long, pulling on her lower lip as he pulled away.  
Leaving her breathless with desire. 

His hand slid down, raising her skirt, moving up the inside of her thigh gently, as she parted her legs for him. 

"Like this?" He murmured, his mouth still close to hers. 

"Yes! God! Yes......" Her gaze became unfocused, lips parted slightly, her heavy breasts rising and falling more rapidly as she felt his fingers sliding inside her knickers. 

A gasp as he parted her soft skin.

Gentle. Tender. But insistent. Feeling his way to the most sensitive spot. Using her natural wetness to lubricate his finger tip. An expert at knowing just where to touch to set her alight. 

It was everything she so desperately needed. 

Jesus, but those long dexterous digits worked wonders! 

She relaxed into the spiral of sensation he was giving her. His breath near her face, the pool of warmth growing where she desired it most.  
Christ! The heights he could bring her to, just by doing this! 

Lost in a delicious haze of lust.  
Cheeks flushed with rising passion, opening her eyes she saw he was watching her closely. His eyes soft and kind. Burning into her own as he caressed her so intimately. 

"Oh Malc!" She whispered. "Don't stop......I'm close......" 

Two fistfuls of denim shirt, as she clutched at him. Willing him to carry on. Lifting herself slightly to meet his touch. 

"Come then my darling, let go......fuck, but I love to watch you come......it's so amazing, you're so beautiful......"

Mouth wider now, lips swollen and full, eyes drifting shut as the full force of orgasm pulsed through her.  
Beneath his fingers he could feel her body's contractions, waves of pleasure like a warm bath washing over her. Her little whimpering cries enflamed him. He was painfully stiff now inside his trousers.

What he wouldn't give to be inside her, gentle penetration, his cock throbbed with the ache of it, but it wasn't what she wanted. 

She wanted this. And nothing would give him more pleasure than to give her what she desired. To satisfy her. 

As she began to calm down, he kissed her again, little gasping breaths from her mouth as she gradually regained her normal rhythm. 

"Good?" He enquired, removing his hand carefully. 

"Fuck! Yes! Wonderful! Thank you Malcolm......thank you!" She whispered. 

"It's my pleasure. Never be afraid to ask Sam......we don't always have to make love.....touching you and watching you is so special to me. I love it. Truly." 

"Let me do the same for you." She replied, somewhat sleepily, reaching for his fly. 

"No Sam. This was about you. What you wanted. You rest now, have a little sleep. Don't worry about me. I'm fine." 

"But you're hard.....and I love you." She murmured in protest. Eyes drifting shut in spite of herself. Wiped out. 

"I know you do. God! I love you too......so much! But you're tired, you need to relax."

Carefully placing a blanket over her legs, he lifted them sideways, onto the couch, leaving her to nap quietly. Hands placed across her belly. Peaceful, limp and satisfied. 

He would wait. Gladly. Have a cool shower if necessary. 

He could easily see to himself, but he didn't want to. 

It smacked of the old days. The times before, when it was his only form of release. He didn't have to do that now. 

Later, when Sam was awake, he would be able to ask her for what he wanted in return, just as she had done to him......solicit her to touch him, suck him, go on her knees before him, make him feel like a fucking god.....and she would. Because he could do that now, everything was different. 

Malcolm could ask his wife to pleasure him, indulge him, make him feel good, without shyness, reticence or embarrassment, without feeling grubby or depraved, and she would willingly acquiesce, enjoy every moment, with no compunction, no recompense required. She would do it just for him, for the sheer pleasure of giving him what he desired.  
No games, no torment, no bargains, just great love and tenderness, freely given, without asking or expecting anything as a reward.....just as he had done for her.  
The plus point being that if anything worried him about it all, he could broach the subject with her at any time.....without fear and knowing she would listen.  
Proper grown ups.

Malcolm was in heaven.


	31. It All Goes Pete Tong.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was all going so well.......
> 
> An arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little view here of Malcolm's relationship with Jamie. 
> 
> It's deep. 
> 
> It goes back a long way......
> 
> .......Nuff said. 
> 
> Oh, and it's not gay! 
> 
> Because two men can be that close......and it not be gay......(I have nothing against them being gay.....but not in this context or this story!)
> 
> There's also a reference to Shitstorm there too, Chapter 29 Revelations and Repercussions so if you haven't read it you won't know.....so I suggest reading it, as it bears directly on the scene here.....(when Jamie finds out about Malcolm's hidden childhood past, and why he was so often hiding in their den, crying.)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.  
IT ALL GOES PETE TONG.

It was strange, how it happened. Clouded. The sequence of events. 

The Inquiry was over. 

Relief. 

Behind them. Nothing to do now but wait for the report. After so long. 

No longer hanging over them. Free. Kick back. Breathe. Enjoy. 

It had been a stressful, tiring few weeks. But now they could finally relax.

Sam was bone weary. 

Her ankles and feet were swelling. 

Malcolm constantly admonished her to rest. 

The months passed, Christmas came and went. Her time drawing closer. 

Then the day dawned. 

She was well on now. Not long to go. 

Huge. Bloated. 

Uncomfortable. 

Her stomach a tight ball. Like a space hopper. She was finding it difficult to sleep. 

Suffering from heartburn, chronic backache and sciatica. Which Malcolm, nightly, did his best to relieve. 

As luck would have it they were at the hospital. 

Scan and check up. Clutching her handbag which contained a urine sample in a plastic bottle. 

Which she handed over to be tested. 

Sam was complaining of a violent headache. 

One of several she'd had recently.

The nurse called her in. 

"Mrs Tucker?" 

Seated behind the powder blue curtains. Easing her arm out of her sleeve. 

Took her blood pressure. 

Through the roof. 

There followed a lot of bustling, a great deal of quiet whispering amongst colleagues. 

The urine sample she'd handed over was examined, the test stick scrutinised. 

Something mentioned about _'protein_ '. It meant nothing to either of them. 

Malcolm sat with his wife, holding her hand, looking from one to the other of the staff in frustration and confusion. His sharp eyes searching, trying to glean anything from the faces that were now turned towards them both. 

"Everything okay?" He asked. 

Quick darting looks. Foot shuffling. Frowns and head shaking. 

Sam leaned her head against his shoulder. 

"I want to lie down Malc." She whispered. "Feeling woozy."

It was the strangest thing. 

The way it happened. 

She seemed to change colour. In front of his very eyes. Drained away, like the life was leeching out of her. 

Sinking down. Her lips were blue. Her eyes rolled up into her head. 

Malcolm cradled her as she went down. He was yelling. Yet not sure if he was actually making any noise. An odd stillness came over him. He saw everything in slow motion, the nurses turning, their mouths open, eyes surprised, rushing towards them both. 

"FUCK!! FUCK!! SAM! HELP......QUICK!" 

She was convulsing. 

Her body shaking. Legs kicking, as if she were receiving an electric current through her body. 

There in his arms. Unresponsive. Not his Sam at all. Looking quite different. Like a mask in a mystery play. Rigid beneath his hands as he held her. 

Malcolm was almost pushed out the way as they rushed to her aid. 

All around her. Calling her name. Opening her clothes. Positioning her, someone at the head end, someone else calling for assistance. In control. Practised. Professional. 

"CRASH TEAM!" 

An alarm sounding. Insistent. Blaring. Filling his ears with harsh sound. 

Malcolm was perplexed confusion. Numb to the bone. Not knowing what the fuck was happening. 

Uncomprehending. 

A trolley was bought. Three to each side, their arms beneath her still quaking body. 

"Count of three.....LIFT......one, two, three......" 

He watched as her apparently lifeless head lolled back. 

"What the fuck?.......Sam......?" His voice trailed to nothing as she was wheeled at the run through the swing doors. 

Out of his sight. 

Someone came a few moments later. Found him still standing there. Frozen to the spot. Where they'd left him. Staring dumbly at those doors. Shaking from head to foot with shock. 

White. Pallid. Blanched. Almost to the point of vampiric transparency. 

Allowing himself to be led, gently. 

To a waiting room. Seated.  
A drink placed into his trembling hand. 

Sweet tea. 

Revolting. But he swallowed it down. 

Left alone again. Told they'd come back shortly.  
When they had something to tell him. He had a thousand questions, but he asked none of them. Meekly accepting. Silenced. 

He felt as if he were under water. Muffled and muted. All sound dimmed. Unable to breathe properly. Drowning. 

Reaching into his pocket. 

Pulling out his phone. 

Texting. 

_"Jamie. At St Johns's. Something terrible has happened. I'm so frightened. No ones telling me anything. M."_

Pressed _send._

A ping came immediately in return, but he could neither focus to read it, or take it in. Quite unable to reply. He held the phone to his face, staring at it, but the letters were jumbled and meant nothing to him. 

He needed to sit. 

Reaching out a pale hand, he felt blindly for the seat behind him. 

Sitting down on the bench. Bringing is knees up. Hugging them. Childlike. Wide eyes staring around him. Not really seeing. 

A bland, miserable, dull room. Featureless. Leaflets in holders. Some grubby toys in a box. Plastic seats, some torn. Formica topped low tables. Stained. Coffee ringed. Tatty magazines and comics.  
A drinks machine.  
Chocolates. Crisps. Biscuits. Diabetes inducing shit. 

Too numb and scared to cry. Too overwrought and confused to think. His ears buzzed annoyingly. Scrambling his brain even further. Short circuit. Nothing functioning. 

Rocking himself. Like a straitjacketed madman in a Victorian asylum. 

No idea how long he sat there. Half an hour? An hour? Two? Four? 

Outside a voice he recognised. The accent familiar. 

The door opened with such force that it hit the wall behind. 

"Fuck! Malc! There you are! What the fucks happened? Where's Sam?" 

And there he was. 

Jamie McDonald. 

The man who dropped everything and came running. 

The powerhouse. The Rottweiler. Force of nature. More than a friend. More than a brother. Representing strength. Fortitude. The indomitable spirit. Blue eyes blazing with concern, depths of crystal sharpness which radiated warmth and succour, offered sanctuary. 

Meeting Malcolm's terrified, haunted gaze.

A vision came to Jamie's eyes at that moment. A vivid memory of finding him often times, as a young boy, in their secret hideout. Sitting now, much as he'd been back then, sobbing fit to break, blood on his trousers. Malcolm couldn't tell him why he cried so. Jamie hadn't understood what it was all about. Not then. It was forty years before he realised the truth of what had happened to his mate Malcy. But he was there. Always. 

Crossing the room in a flurry. 

"Malc! Mate! C'mere." 

Arms enveloped him. Drawing him close. Fingers clasping the back of his neck with a deep tenderness. 

Surrendering to the embrace. Bending into the smaller man. Falling limply against the chest. His knees still bent up. An oversized besuited foetus. Held close. 

Strong. Dependable. 

A hand rubbing up and down his back. 

Soft words. 

"It's okay. I'm here. She'll be right.....she will......." 

Breaking suddenly, like waves against the rocky shore. Shoulders beginning to heave. 

Broken sobs wracking his body. A long, drawn out, mournful moan which began deep in his diaphragm. Gut wrenching in its intensity. Plumbing the depths of his despair. 

"She collapsed.....had a fit......they took her away......." Was all he managed to choke out. 

Fingers stroking through his hair, combing it back soothingly, as he trembled there. Head buried into the soft fabric of a polo shirt. A slight hint of after shave, and deodorant. 

"Whisht! Malc.......hush now.......they'll take good care.....they will.....they know what they're doing."

He cried almost as one taken in madness. 

Sobbing as if his heart would break. Mouth foaming and twisted, eyes screwed tight shut, nose dripping. 

A mess of salt tears and mucous. 

His friend didn't care. 

Beneath his fingertips Jamie could feel the tremble of every muscle, the wiry sinew that constituted Malcolm Tucker. The bone and skin held together with naught but whipcord. Sharp beak of a nose pressed into his sternum. Wet and snotty.  
But he held him firm. Stoically. Comforting.

Just as if he were a larger version of the gangly older boy he'd held so many years ago, in a waste ground tenement den, in Glasgow.  
A child who sobbed much as Malcolm was doing now, inconsolable. 

Afraid. Confused. Lonely. In pain. 

Minutes passed. Crawling by. So very slowly. 

The door opened a crack. Then more.

A doctor entered. Neat, diminutive, sympathetic. 

"Mr Tucker?" 

Malcolm hushed himself. Sniffing. Wiping his nose on the back of his hand.  
Unfolding himself. Peering out from under Jamie's comforting embrace, like a tortoise emerging from its shell. 

"Your wife is stable, Mr Tucker. She has developed a condition called pre-eclampsia." 

"Is......is......it dangerous?.....the baby.......what......?" 

His brain just didn't seem to want to work his mouth. The words simply refused to form themselves. 

_'Can't compute! Overload! Malfunction!'_

"We are monitoring her closely. Her blood pressure is now under control. We consider that it might be safer for her to have her labour induced. Baby is large enough now to be perfectly viable, only three weeks from term.....and a reasonably good size......if she does not progress well we may consider a C section....but we'll try the induction first. Would you like to see her now?" 

oOo

Ushered into a room. 

Blind drawn to block out the bright yellow sun. 

Quite uncomfortably hot. 

Malcolm entered, blinking like an owl in the change of light. 

There she lay. 

Her eyes were closed, hair matted and dragged back, her high forehead clammy and shining in the lamplight. 

A belt was strapped around her swollen middle, with a Doptone attached. The overwhelming sound which came from it almost stopped his breath. 

A rapid _"whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump, whump."_

The thrum of a tiny organ. 

He stood, listening.

To the sound of the heartbeat of his own child. A drumbeat of life. Rhythmic, unfaltering.  
Wavering slightly as the baby moved, but unceasing and comforting.  
A constant reminder of the life-force within her womb. 

It entered his skull and stayed there. Like a woodpecker knocking on a tree. It was the only sound he could hear. 

Pre-natal percussion. 

A tube fixed to a cannula in the back of her hand led to a bag on a stand at her right side. The evidence of unsuccessful attempts in livid purple on the hand nearest him.

But at least her face was coloured in. It no longer resembled a child's painting book before the child had painted. 

Timidly he crossed the room. 

Drew up a chair, close to the bed and sat down. Balanced on the edge. His knees jammed against the metal bed frame. 

Gently reaching out, letting his fingers cover hers. She felt cool to the touch, whereas he was burning up. Carefully he curled his hand, lifting hers slightly and sweeping his thumb over the papery skin. 

"Sam?" He whispered. 

At the sound of his voice, her eyes opened. Head turning to seek him out. Her measured breathing altering, picking up speed, as the panic she'd clearly been keeping down, began to rise. 

"Malc?" Her tone was languid, drowsy and weak. But her fingers gripped his painfully tight. 

"It's okay love, I'm here." 

Her face seemed to crumple, like a sheet of old newspaper. 

"Hey......it's alright.......I'm here." 

"What happened? She choked. "I don't remember anything....."

"You were taken poorly." 

Never was there such a fucking understatement! 

"But you'll be ok...."

"But the baby?" She stammered out, between staccato sobs. 

"Listen!" He put a finger over her lips. "Listen to that sound......that's our baby......it's fine!  
But they want to start your labour......get him out......quick as possible.......you may have to have a Caesarian.....they're gonna see how you go.....and if the baby gets stressed......." He tailed off, unable to finish the sentence. 

She turned to look at him, her sorrowful eyes searching his......looking for lies. 

There were none. 

"Hold me....." She pleaded. "I need you to......" 

Malcolm moved as close to the bed as he could. 

Then made a decision. 

Resting his head down on the pillow next to hers. His face side on to her ear.  
His right arm came up and curved around the top of her head. Forming a protective cradle around it. 

Sliding his body up next to her, lying alongside her. Straight as a ruler. His feet hanging off the end. 

Snuggling up as close as humanly possible in the circumstances. His other arm across her body. 

Close. 

Feeling him there, his warmth, his finger idly stroking her cheek, she let out a deep sigh. 

Letting her eyes close, her breathing slow and steady. 

This was how the nurse found them when she entered moments later. 

For a second she stopped short. 

"What the......." 

Malcolm didn't trouble himself to raise his head. 

She saw the dried tears on the face of the man. He was big, but he looked terribly vulnerable. In spite of the thick hair and even thicker beard, he looked almost feminine.  
The woman, his wife, beside him, seemed at peace, far less agitated than she'd been previously.  
Her careworn face looked younger again. 

Clearly he was older than her. Quite obviously the child was a first for both of them. Much wanted and anticipated.  
But she'd rarely seen such adoration, such a tender moment between any couple. Married or not, and she'd seen a few in her time. 

Malcolm opened his eyes. Saw her watching them both, began to sit up, embarrassed, as if he'd been caught for some dreadful misdemeanour. 

"Stay where you are....." she said gently. "Your presence is calming her.....that's what we need, it'll help her. Especially in the hours ahead." 

oOo

Time lost all meaning. 

Malcolm didn't know if it was day or night. 

All he knew was hours of wracking pain and struggle. 

Not for him, but for the woman he loved. 

War was being waged. One of attrition. Relentless, trench warfare. Ground gained, ground lost.  
Building to a crescendo of protracted agony, as the hours ticked by. 

How could any human endure this? 

Let alone one the size and strength of Sam? 

Malcolm was incredulous, as he witnessed the suffering. Presumably his own mother had gone through this.....twice. He had friends whose mothers had given birth to ten kids. 

He hadn't dwelt much on the mechanics of childbirth before, and my God, it was a fucking steep learning curve! 

Helpless to do anything other than offer what comfort he could. A cool flannel on her brow.  
His fingers pushed beneath her to rub her back. Large hands splayed out across her fiercely contracting belly, attempting to soothe a level of pain apparently similar to having limbs twisted off.  
Leaning over her, his arm behind her head. Supporting. 

Offering her words of encouragement as she fought on. 

Battle weary to the point of delirium. Finding strength from fuck knows where. 

There would never be a time when he was more proud of her. More humbled by her fortitude, her endurance. The stoic way with which she met and grappled with each wave of pain.  
The onslaught ever growing in severity and intensity. 

Each fresh bout leaving her gasping. Bathed in sweat from the supreme effort. Only moments to recover herself before the next one crashed in, her eyes wide with shock as she recoiled from it.  
Clutching his hand now, squeezing his fingers so tight that he thought they might break. 

Bearing down. Her knees up and parted. Chin on her chest. She shut her eyes tight. Face almost puce with the effort.  
Then sucking in rapid breaths as the agony subsided, allowing her to desperately take in air again, before it hit her anew. 

Hair plastered in soggy tendrils sticking to her face and neck. Malcolm smoothed it back, wiping her eyes so she could at least be free of salty perspiration almost blinding her. 

"Another one coming......" She gasped. Clinging to his hand again. Taking the punch once more, straight in the gut, almost reeling from it, but then steeling herself against the blow and pushing with her last ounce of energy. 

"Good girl, Mrs Tucker......well done.......you're doing wonderfully......" 

Malcolm could not drag his eyes away from the view down between his wife's legs. 

With a gush of blood and fluid, a head appeared, rapidly followed by flailing arms, a little bottom and finally legs and feet. Wet and slippery and covered in gunk. Like a baby seal. Flopping out. 

A lusty squall, indignant and tremulous rent the air. 

Sam gave a cry of sheer relief. Sinking back into the pillows with exhaustion. 

"You have a lovely daughter Mr and Mrs Tucker......"

"Is she alright.......?" Sam managed to utter, as she released her grip on Malcolm's hand. 

"She's absolutely bonnie.......but we're going to whisk her away, suck her out, and make sure she's okay......just give us a moment.......nurse here will concentrate on the placenta......the check up will only take a minute." 

Malcolm watched as the soggy screaming bundle was taken to one side. He could see the nurse with a rubber tube, one end in her mouth, the other up his daughter's nose, then a stethoscope, held against the tiny chest.  
Seemingly satisfied, she gave the infant as cursory wipe over, wrapped a towel around her and headed back to the bedside. 

"Who's going to take her?" She asked. 

"Malcolm......you......" Sam whispered. 

Malcolm Tucker held out a crooked arm and his brand new daughter was placed there. 

He looked down. 

So many emotions. Barely able to register any of them. 

A tiny neat button nose.....thank Christ for that!  
Muddy blue eyes, unfocused. A rosebud mouth, with lips startlingly shaped just like his own.  
The fuzz of fair hair, still marred with birth goo.  
Minuscule hands, each finger with the tiniest perfect pink fingernail. 

It was astonishing. Overwhelming. 

He looked up and across at Sam.......who was laying back, still being attended to, cleaned up, but hardly noticing, too busy looking at her man.....cradling his newborn.  
Their eyes met and locked. 

"Thank you Sam." He said tearfully. 

She smiled weakly, then held out her pale arms. He placed the child close to her breast, and she looked down into the little face properly for the first time. 

"She's perfect." She breathed. 

"She's a fucking miracle. That's what she is." 

Once she was decent, clean and covered, Malcolm sat himself at the top of the bed, one arm around behind his wife. Hand resting just below her shoulder, reaching his other hand to open the towel slightly and look at the new addition to his life. 

"Picture!" The nurse said, and snapped the scene on Malcolm's phone. 

A little family. 

Captured forever. 

"Shit.....Jamie's outside......I must go tell him......let him know it's okay......phone Nance....." 

"Malcolm!" Sam stayed him, her hand on his arm gently. "Just a few more minutes....yeah?" 

Malcolm placed the tenderest of kisses on his wife's lips. 

"Yeah, okay." He smiled. 

oOo

Sam was sleeping. Completely done in. 

Malcolm was seated at her bedside. 

Cradling the infant. He couldn't put her down. Couldn't stop looking at her. 

She was so beautiful. Washed rosy and pink now. His index finger encircled by the little fist. 

Every so often her little mouth would work as if she were suckling. Small mewling sounds coming from her. 

The midwife entered quietly. Smiled at him. 

"Proud dad eh?" She said. 

"Fucking right!" He replied, looking up. "Never thought this would ever be mine.....a wee bairn........my child.......can't get my head around it! Can't believe she's even real!" 

"It'll all be horribly real when she's waking you up in the early hours of the morning." The nurse laughed.  
"Doctor told me to tell you, we are going to keep Mrs Tucker in for a couple of days, just to be sure the pre-eclampsia doesn't rear its ugly head postnatally. We'll monitor her blood pressure, and generally keep an eye on her postpartum recovery." 

"Ok.....thank you by the way......for looking after her so brilliantly.......I......we.....appreciate it." 

The midwife bent over the sleeping babe. 

"She's a real cutie, and no mistake." 

"Takes after her mother!" Malcolm replied with a bashful smile. 

"Got a name for her yet?" She enquired. 

"Aye........we thought Freya......the Norse goddess of love and beauty.....it kinda fits her, y'know?"


	32. Epilogue.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The round off of the story. 
> 
> Six months have passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the finale of the story. 
> 
> The report is obviously my own take on what might be the conclusion. But it is based on true facts, from The Hutton Inquiry a few years back.
> 
> Closure for the Tickel family and for Malcolm too. I hope. Although not entirely all he might have hoped for. 
> 
> I just know that Malcolm would find it really difficult to moderate his language.

EPILOGUE.

 

_Birth announcements......_

_**To Malcolm and Samantha Tucker, a beautiful daughter, Freya Jaime. Born on January 10th, at St John's Maternity wing. Weighing 5lbs 6oz. A precious gift.** _

oOo

 

_Six months later......_

 

_Report on the second Inquiry:_

" _A brief summary......._

~ _That Mr Douglas Tickel killed himself whilst the balance of his mind was disturbed._

_~It is considered that nobody could have anticipated that Mr Tickel would take his own life, but that it was preventable given the appropriate care and diligence._

~ _There was an underhand Government strategy to discredit Mr Tickel's name._

~ _The Department concerned (DoSAC) was at fault for not informing Mr Tickel of it's strategy before the bailiffs were sent in._

~ _The Prime Minister himself had chaired a meeting at which it was decided that Mr Tickel would be publicly discredited, and this was passed on to journalists._

~ _That the Home Secretary *name inserted*, through coercion and bribery, sought to use the services of Mr Peter Mannion MP to deflect blame from the Government and place it onto Senior Communications Officer for the Oppositon, Mr M Tucker._

~ _It is considered that the first Inquiry panel were, without exception, influenced and manipulated to show leniency towards the Government. Some being offered and accepting financial incentives to act in this manner._

~ _The Inquiry finds that the Prime Minister was not directly complicit in this._

~ _That vital evidence shown at the first Inquiry was tampered with._

~ _The leaking of Mr Tickel's medical records was unlawful. That the leak came, not from Mr Tucker but from the within the Government itself._

~ _It is evident that corruption at the highest level of The Cabinet should now be thoroughly investigated._

~ _The Inquiry rules that direct and publicly printed formal Government apologies be made to:-_

_A) The Tickel family, for the great suffering that has been caused to them during the months before, during and after the Goolding Inquiry, and that monetary compensation be granted to them. (A figure to be agreed following the subsequent investigation.)_

_B)Mr M Tucker, whose public reputation was destroyed by the false revelations, and who has suffered loss of earnings after being forced to resign his position. (Financial recompense to be awarded according to the Statutory Payment Scheme)._

~ _Finally, that although the Government cannot be held wholly responsible for the loss of Mr Tickel's life, it most certainly contributed to it. That valuable lessons must be learned when dealing with vulnerable people in the community and that a heavy burden of responsibility lies with Government Departments to deal with matters in a responsible and caring manner. "_

 

"Well, that's that then." Malcolm slung the pages onto the breakfast table. "All those months and months of pain and heartache for that pile of wank!" 

His wife turned from her cooking. 

"Well, what did you expect? At least there will be a criminal investigation.....and you'll get a public apology!" 

"Fucking big deal!" He huffed. 

"Malcolm! _Language!_.......Er........you are watching her....aren't you?" 

Malcolm drew his attention back to the little blue eyed blonde sitting in her high chair at his side. 

She looked like a Scandinavian princess, (fuck knows where that came from!).....a cloud headed angel, beautiful, and adorably sweet.  
What she actually was, in Malcolm's opinion right at this very moment, was the spawn of Satan......mischievous, wilful and downright cheeky with it.

"Oh Freya! No! Jesus......Sam.....give me a cloth.......quick!" 

"Now what's she done?" 

The sound of a plastic spoon being rapped hard against the highchair tray, alerted him. 

"Christ! She's been trying to feed her Ollie plush monkey with banana and yoghurt....he's covered in it.....and so is she!" 

His wife came over with a damp J cloth. 

Standing, hands on hips, regarding her beaming daughter and her contrite husband with a frown. 

"Oh Malcolm! You were supposed to be keeping an eye on her......its everywhere......it's even in her hair!"

"I'm sorry! I got distracted by that bloody report! Give it here, I'll deal with it......come here you tiny wee terrorist!!" 

He made a grab for the chin of the sticky face as his daughter squirmed and protested loudly. As man and babe grappled to gain the upper hand, he wiped the tiny pudgy fingers, the plastered cheeks and the toy monkey in turn. 

"Agh! You little horrorvitz! I swear Sam.....we should have called her Damien! I'll wager she's got three sixes on the top of her head!" 

Sam laughed heartily. 

"Malcolm, she's no trouble at all......she's a normal healthy six month old baby!" 

"She's a naughty wee wean, that's what she is! Crafty too!" 

"Rubbish.....she doesn't know the concept of being naughty.....she thinks it's a game....now finish up because Jamie and Laura will be here in a minute and I want to get myself ready." 

"Aye.....I'm dealing with it......I have dad skills!" 

Sam planted a tender kiss on her husband's cheek.....which tasted of banana, where his daughter had swiped him with her fingers. 

"Am I to trust you two boys with her, while Laura and I go out for lunch?" 

"We'll manage! I'm not completely clueless! You bugger off and enjoy yourselves!" 

The doorbell rang. 

"Oh damn....they're here....and I'm not ready!" Sam went down the hallway to answer the door. 

Laura entered the kitchen first, her obviously pregnant belly entering before she did. 

"Here she is!" Malcolm smiled. "Looking fabulous too, hen!" 

Jamie's wife kissed him warmly and ran a hand over her own stomach. 

"It's expanding daily!" She laughed. "Three months to go and I already want the damn thing out!" 

"That's not the way to talk about our unborn bairn!" Jamie followed his wife, hugging first Sam then Malcolm, then turning to his happily babbling goddaughter. 

"Look at you......my pretty wee treasure!" He exclaimed. "Getting all big....and....... eww......yoghurty!!  
Who's coming out with Daddy and Uncle Jamie today then! You gonna be a good little lass?" 

He lifted the youngster out of the highchair and her fingers immediately went to his mouth and nose. 

"Can I leave her with you two men for a moment, so I can go put on some slap.....and something that isn't covered in dribble or sick?" Sam enquired sarcastically, her eyebrows raised in question. 

"Go!" Malcolm waved a dramatic hand. "Fuck off and have a good time.....we can cope!" 

" _LANGUAGE!_ " Both Sam and Laura admonished simultaneously. 

"Honestly! I swear that'll be her first word!" Sam scolded. "Can you imagine when she gets to nursery age! We'll be drummed out of all polite society! Our child a friendless pariah, us spurned by the other parents!" 

"Och! She'll be right!" Jamie grinned impishly. "We'll try to rein it in.....won't we Malc?" 

"Aye!" He replied, placing butterfly kisses onto his little girl's rosy cheek. "I'll make her promise.....never to call another child a cunt to its face!" 

Laura exploded into a fit of giggles. 

Sam thumped Malcolm on the arm. 

"Christ!......I give up! Come on Laura......let's get out of here......before I lose the plot completely and murder my darling husband, stepping over his cold and lifeless body on my way out of the door!"

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much to everyone who has stuck with this story......or the whole trilogy of stories. 
> 
> To say I appreciate it is an understatement. The comments on each chapter, help to encourage me and keep me going. 
> 
> To those who commented on each individual chapter or on my tumblr......thank you from the bottom of my heart, you are dears, and I appreciate you taking the time to let me know you're enjoying the story.


End file.
